I
emerged from the bathroom, Brian quickly looked away as I headed to my closet.
“It’s okay to look, you,
know,” I said in a light tone. “You’ve seen it all anyway.”
“Yeah, got it,” he
replied as he tried to hide the smile that flitted across his lips. “Just
trying to give you some privacy.”
“Well, it’s hard in a
space this small, but I appreciate it,” I said as I grabbed my clothes.
“ It’s kind of chilly out there this
morning,” Brian offered as he thumbed through my psych text book. “You might
want to dress appropriately.”
“What’s that supposed to
mean?” I shot back as I felt myself getting defensive. “Are you implying that I
don’t usually dress appropriately?”
“Step down, spitfire,” he
said as he raised a hand in defense. “I’m just saying that you might want to
dress for rain, that’s all. I’m not judging you.”
I stood there fuming as I
looked at him. How dare he tell me what’s
appropriate and what isn’t! I was sick of his constant back and forth, one
minute approving and the next disapproving. I was tired of having to walk on
egg shells as we tried to navigate the path between security guard and
boyfriend. Suddenly a flood of questions came rushing into my brain.
Does
he see me as his girlfriend? Do I think of him as my boyfriend? Are we a
couple? I quickly discounted my answers by telling myself
that it was insane to think that he could be someone I viewed as a boyfriend
after less than a week. It’s Stockholm Syndrome , only without the kidnapping and violence. I
chuckled as this thought crossed my mind.
“What are you laughing
about?” Brian asked in an irritated voice. “Is there something funny I don’t
know about?”
“Just thinking about my psych
homework,” I replied. “No need to get all irritated with me.”
“Irritated? Who’s
irritated?” he said in a voice that was even more irritated than before.
“Obviously you are,
sailor,” I said nonchalantly.
“I’m not irritated!” he
yelled as he shot up off the couch.
“Evidence would prove
otherwise,” I said as I held my ground.
“What the hell is wrong
with you, Ava?” he shouted. “Why do you push me like this?”
“How exactly am I doing
anything, Brian?” I said. My voice was calm, but inside I was trembling like a
leaf. I knew he wouldn’t hurt me, but his anger was palpable.
“You are so…so…so…” he
stuttered before blurting out, “Infuriating!”
“Oh, I’m infuriating? Me?” I cried. “That’s a good one! You’re the one
who gets all pissy and then shuts down and refuses to
talk about anything! I didn’t do anything to you, and you just get mad and stop
talking! What’s that all about, huh?”
Brian stood glaring at me
with his fists clenched at his sides for what felt like hours before he lowered
his eyes and loosened his hands. He stared at the floor in front of my feet for
another long while before taking a deep breath.
“Look, I’m sorry,” he
began. “I just feel…frustrated.”
“About what?” I asked quietly.
“About the fact that I
want to protect you, but I feel like you won’t let me do the things I need to
do to ensure that you’re safe, and then you go and…” he trailed off.
“I go and do what?” I
asked.
“You participate in that
hateful group that does such awful things to members of the military. How could
you?” he asked as he looked up. The hurt and pain in his eyes took my breath
away.
“What hateful things?” I
was confused by his accusation.
“Those anti-war groups
protest at military funerals and say hateful things about people who’ve given
their lives for their country,” he explained. “How could you participate in
that kind of thing?”
“I have no idea what
you’re talking about!” I protested. “We don’t do those kinds of things!”
“I’ve seen the groups that
do,” he said quietly. “They were at my best friend’s funeral when I accompanied
his body back to the