(nancytribe)
I knew I was right. Not a matter of if, only when. I could stand only so many of Ethan's accusing looks, and fewer of his sad ones, that seemed to follow me around the flat, even when we weren't in the same room together. 'All right, Ethan, I give up. You win.' -- I can be a little short on tact when I'm short of patience, as well.
'Give up what?' Ethan asked sharply. 'What is it do you suppose I've won?'
'The argument we've been having for over a week now?' I asked. 'The one about my signing a domestic partnership agreement? Preferably as soon as its feasible, or your solicitor says it's so?'
'For the record, when I expressed an interest, I was told in very succinct terms that I'm "out of my fucking mind" for even considering it.'
Ethan glared at me. He doesn't have to actually accuse me of anything to give me that look. He doesn't have to do.
'Oh, cer i grafu, if that's the way you feel about it, then!'
'Twll dy din di ffaro.'
Lovely. I could feel Ethan's pain and wounded feeling like jagged shards of glass being ground into my skin. Just one more incentive not to piss Ethan off, I suppose. He went into the kitchen, to put the kettle on. Ethan really was upset. I could tell, just by the way he rattled the utensils. I only went as far as the door. I live in the flat, but I'm still a visitor in Ethan's kitchen.
'Mae'n ddrwg gyda fi... Dillyn? Os gwelwch in dda?' I don't mind apologising, but it does bother me, at times, to feel I have to beg to be able to disagree with Ethan's opinions on a subject.
'I don't need you doing this out of misplaced pity,' Ethan sniffed.
'Trust me, Ethan, "pity" is not what I'm feeling at the moment,' I snapped back. 'Maybe I'm not as thrilled with the idea as you are. Maybe I won't ever be, but that doesn't mean I won't do it.' If only to keep the rest of my life from the complete misery to which this is only prelude... I thought.
'Well, why, then?' Ethan was down to the deadly monosyllables already. Shit.
'Because it's important to you, and you're important to me.' When all else fails, start grovelling.
'Give up what?' Ethan asked sharply. 'What is it do you suppose I've won?'
'The argument we've been having for over a week now?' I asked. 'The one about my signing a domestic partnership agreement? Preferably as soon as its feasible, or your solicitor says it's so?'
'For the record, when I expressed an interest, I was told in very succinct terms that I'm "out of my fucking mind" for even considering it.'
Ethan glared at me. He doesn't have to actually accuse me of anything to give me that look. He doesn't have to do.
'Oh, cer i grafu, if that's the way you feel about it, then!'
'Twll dy din di ffaro.'
Lovely. I could feel Ethan's pain and wounded feeling like jagged shards of glass being ground into my skin. Just one more incentive not to piss Ethan off, I suppose. He went into the kitchen, to put the kettle on. Ethan really was upset. I could tell, just by the way he rattled the utensils. I only went as far as the door. I live in the flat, but I'm still a visitor in Ethan's kitchen.
'Mae'n ddrwg gyda fi... Dillyn? Os gwelwch in dda?' I don't mind apologising, but it does bother me, at times, to feel I have to beg to be able to disagree with Ethan's opinions on a subject.
'I don't need you doing this out of misplaced pity,' Ethan sniffed.
'Trust me, Ethan, "pity" is not what I'm feeling at the moment,' I snapped back. 'Maybe I'm not as thrilled with the idea as you are. Maybe I won't ever be, but that doesn't mean I won't do it.' If only to keep the rest of my life from the complete misery to which this is only prelude... I thought.
'Well, why, then?' Ethan was down to the deadly monosyllables already. Shit.
'Because it's important to you, and you're important to me.' When all else fails, start grovelling.