What difference does it make?

by Anya

You can never sleep afterwards.

Maybe you’re scared that her kids will come bounding into the room, even though they’ve grown calmer and more respectful over the years. Maybe you’re scared Tom will return, and she’ll cast you aside without a second thought, even though he’s the one who cheated on her. Maybe it’s just the way she tosses and turns in her sleep.

You get up, instead, and stare out the window. You stare at the houses, envision the homes you can’t see from your perch. Your house doesn’t look as immaculate as it used to. Susan’s gone; Gabrielle and Carlos are, too. Sometimes you blink and you can still see the blood on the pavement.

You hear her roll over, groaning something like, “Put it back, Parker.” You smile. At least, until you remember Andrew, and how rude the guard was when you tried to give him a box of vanilla sugar cookies.

You snapped at her, once, shortly after the police had come to take him away: “Don’t act so high and mighty; your kids will be there in a couple years.” They won’t, of course, because as messed up as her life seems, everything always turns out okay for Lynette. Well, except for her marriage. But even with that, you’re not convinced that it’s really over. He still loves her. And you don’t know what she feels for you, but it’s not love.

You don’t love her, either. You think. Maybe. You still love Rex, at least (God rest his soul). Maybe some people can love two people at once, but you’re not sure you can.

This won’t last. It doesn’t matter how many times you manage to make her come, how good her body feels curved around yours. It doesn’t matter that her fingers fit perfectly inside you, that she can practically read your mind when she’s on top of you. She’s not yours, and you’re not even sure you want her.

Again: “Mmm, Parker, stop it.”

Rex talks in his sleep sometimes, too. Talked.

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