for Roger
After Maureen left Mark's hut, she went for a long walk. She just needed to get away for a minute, try to get out of her own head. It didn't work. So finally she went back to her hut and threw some clothes in a bag. Then she walked to the compound and took a very long, hot shower.
She didn't cry. She kind of felt like it, but she didn't. She wasn't mad at Mark. She certainly wasn't mad at Prior. She was mad at herself, and at the world, and... okay, actually, maybe she was a little mad at Mark. He could have given her a chance. He could have let her in after Tosh died. No, she hadn't told him how she felt. But he could have seen. He pretended to know her so goddamned well, how could he not feel it? All those times they'd had sex here on the island, did he honestly think it was just sex?
That's why she felt like crying. Because she'd fucked it up, and the only person she thought she'd been truly in love with thought she was just a slut.
When she got out of the shower, she pulled on clean clothes, ending up strangely minimalist. Unintentionally provocative, maybe, since she was wearing short cut-offs and a white tank top with no bra, but she also didn't bother with makeup, and just pulled her hair while still wet.
Then she left the compound where she walked straight to the strip club. It was early in the evening, so it wasn't open to customers yet, and she wasn't on tonight. But Roger was already there at the bar.
She sat down in one of the stools and said, "I need a drink. Something strong."
She didn't cry. She kind of felt like it, but she didn't. She wasn't mad at Mark. She certainly wasn't mad at Prior. She was mad at herself, and at the world, and... okay, actually, maybe she was a little mad at Mark. He could have given her a chance. He could have let her in after Tosh died. No, she hadn't told him how she felt. But he could have seen. He pretended to know her so goddamned well, how could he not feel it? All those times they'd had sex here on the island, did he honestly think it was just sex?
That's why she felt like crying. Because she'd fucked it up, and the only person she thought she'd been truly in love with thought she was just a slut.
When she got out of the shower, she pulled on clean clothes, ending up strangely minimalist. Unintentionally provocative, maybe, since she was wearing short cut-offs and a white tank top with no bra, but she also didn't bother with makeup, and just pulled her hair while still wet.
Then she left the compound where she walked straight to the strip club. It was early in the evening, so it wasn't open to customers yet, and she wasn't on tonight. But Roger was already there at the bar.
She sat down in one of the stools and said, "I need a drink. Something strong."