"It's fucking sweltering out there," he says, pushing past her into her apartment, and honestly it's not the best way he could have greeted her. But he looks like hell and he's holding a paper bag that obviously contains a bottle of something, and she's not in the mood to get into it with him over his manners, or lack of.
"Yeah."
"Glasses?" Yes, she's wearing hers, which he's only seen a few times, so she wrinkles her brow and touches her fingers to the frames, and he rolls his eyes and holds up the bag. "Glasses."
See, the thing is, Karen so often feels like a complete idiot in front of him, but it never stops feeling really shitty. So she just laughs at herself and goes to the kitchen. He doesn't follow her and she didn't think he would. Something's obviously going on with him and she's at least a little afraid of how he'll respond if she dares to ask what it is.
He downs an entire glass of scotch in about half a second, then pours another and clinks the glass against hers, so yeah. Whatever he's dealing with is something big.
"Derek, do…"
"Ivy had an abortion."
Karen freezes, just stares at him, watches him finish that drink, too. "I…I didn't even know she was pregnant."
Derek lets out a soft laugh, though nothing about this is funny, really. "You're one of three people who knows."
She takes a small sip of her drink, but the glass isn't even lowered before she decides she needs more alcohol and drinks the rest. Derek leans back against her sofa and she has a random, stupid flash of the last time he was here and what happened then, her beneath him right here with his hand unbuttoning her pants and god. Now is so not the time to relive that memory.
She just looks at him for a moment, and he closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, rests his glass on his thigh. He looks exhausted and angry, and if she's being honest, a little bit relieved. She's not about to say any of that.
"I don't even know what to say. I thought you were in love."
"Oh, for Christ's sake, Karen," he says a bit violently, glaring at her. "Could you for one second pull your little midwestern heart into the real world and consider the fact that love doesn't conquer all?" It hits her like a slap in the face, and he's right, of course, but he doesn't have to be like this with her. "If she doesn't want a baby, love doesn't have much to do with that, now, does it?"
"Did she at least talk to you about it?" she asks gently, because at this point she has no idea what'll set him off, and she's not doing a very good job of reading him. That's probably the most unsettling thing about all this.
"It's her choice," he says with a shrug, then sets his empty glass on the table. She's a bit relieved she doesn't have to suggest he slow down.
"I know that," she almost snaps. God, she may be from a small town, but she's not completely uneducated on social issues.
"I knew about the baby. We talked about it. She ended it."
Karen's confused now. The way he said that leaves so much room for interpretation, and losing a baby would bother him, yeah, but losing something or someone he actually already had is more likely to send him into this kind of mood.
"Ended…"
"Everything."
She's got no idea what to do with this, or why he's in her apartment at all. She's doing a really poor job of saying the right things, and he's obviously not feeling any better than he was when he showed up. Drunker, maybe, but not better.
"How's Jimmy?" he asks, not even bothering to look at her, and oh, there it is. He's deliberately trying to make her as miserable as he is. She can tell by the tone of his voice.
She's not going to lie to him, but she refuses to give him more than what he asked. "I don't know."
When he turns to look at her, she absolutely notices that his eyes move to her lips. She's been watching him do that for the better part of two years now; she can almost predict it before it happens.
"Why are you here, Derek?" she finally asks quietly, toying with her glass instead of looking him in the eye.
He swallows, refills both their glasses and casually sets his arm along the back of the sofa. He could touch her if he wanted to.
"Seems like a trend, doesn't it, darling?" Oh god, his voice. "Everything goes to hell and you and I find a way to stay standing."
It's too poetic, really, and he'd never say it if he were sober, but she likes it. She likes it. And she's feeling bold as a result.
"What do you think that says about us?" she asks, and she'll laugh it off as a joke if he shows any signs of thinking it's a stupid question to ask.
He grins, just barely, blinks slowly and fuck, she's in trouble here.
"Yeah."
"Glasses?" Yes, she's wearing hers, which he's only seen a few times, so she wrinkles her brow and touches her fingers to the frames, and he rolls his eyes and holds up the bag. "Glasses."
See, the thing is, Karen so often feels like a complete idiot in front of him, but it never stops feeling really shitty. So she just laughs at herself and goes to the kitchen. He doesn't follow her and she didn't think he would. Something's obviously going on with him and she's at least a little afraid of how he'll respond if she dares to ask what it is.
He downs an entire glass of scotch in about half a second, then pours another and clinks the glass against hers, so yeah. Whatever he's dealing with is something big.
"Derek, do…"
"Ivy had an abortion."
Karen freezes, just stares at him, watches him finish that drink, too. "I…I didn't even know she was pregnant."
Derek lets out a soft laugh, though nothing about this is funny, really. "You're one of three people who knows."
She takes a small sip of her drink, but the glass isn't even lowered before she decides she needs more alcohol and drinks the rest. Derek leans back against her sofa and she has a random, stupid flash of the last time he was here and what happened then, her beneath him right here with his hand unbuttoning her pants and god. Now is so not the time to relive that memory.
She just looks at him for a moment, and he closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, rests his glass on his thigh. He looks exhausted and angry, and if she's being honest, a little bit relieved. She's not about to say any of that.
"I don't even know what to say. I thought you were in love."
"Oh, for Christ's sake, Karen," he says a bit violently, glaring at her. "Could you for one second pull your little midwestern heart into the real world and consider the fact that love doesn't conquer all?" It hits her like a slap in the face, and he's right, of course, but he doesn't have to be like this with her. "If she doesn't want a baby, love doesn't have much to do with that, now, does it?"
"Did she at least talk to you about it?" she asks gently, because at this point she has no idea what'll set him off, and she's not doing a very good job of reading him. That's probably the most unsettling thing about all this.
"It's her choice," he says with a shrug, then sets his empty glass on the table. She's a bit relieved she doesn't have to suggest he slow down.
"I know that," she almost snaps. God, she may be from a small town, but she's not completely uneducated on social issues.
"I knew about the baby. We talked about it. She ended it."
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"Ended…"
"Everything."
She's got no idea what to do with this, or why he's in her apartment at all. She's doing a really poor job of saying the right things, and he's obviously not feeling any better than he was when he showed up. Drunker, maybe, but not better.
"How's Jimmy?" he asks, not even bothering to look at her, and oh, there it is. He's deliberately trying to make her as miserable as he is. She can tell by the tone of his voice.
She's not going to lie to him, but she refuses to give him more than what he asked. "I don't know."
When he turns to look at her, she absolutely notices that his eyes move to her lips. She's been watching him do that for the better part of two years now; she can almost predict it before it happens.
"Why are you here, Derek?" she finally asks quietly, toying with her glass instead of looking him in the eye.
He swallows, refills both their glasses and casually sets his arm along the back of the sofa. He could touch her if he wanted to.
"Seems like a trend, doesn't it, darling?" Oh god, his voice. "Everything goes to hell and you and I find a way to stay standing."
It's too poetic, really, and he'd never say it if he were sober, but she likes it. She likes it. And she's feeling bold as a result.
"What do you think that says about us?" she asks, and she'll laugh it off as a joke if he shows any signs of thinking it's a stupid question to ask.
He grins, just barely, blinks slowly and fuck, she's in trouble here.
"Probably best not to question it tonight."
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