"William Lynch"
by Michael Dell

CHAPTER SIX

It had been two days since he saw her. Two days spent holed up in his apartment. The hours weren't just killed, they were dragged to an alley and shot in the back of the head.

Tuesday followed the usual pattern. He woke up and watched a stream of reruns and old movies. Then came Letterman, O'Brien, and a string of Nick-at-Nite viewing. The day wasn't a total waste. "Latka the Playboy" was the night's selected Taxi episode. William considered it the single greatest example of comedy in television history. Watching Andy Kaufman at the height of his performance art as he slipped into the skin of Latka's playboy persona, Vic Ferrari, was a truly transcendental moment. William knew the show by heart. It was the prize of his collection. He actually had it recorded on two different tapes. Safety first. But he never missed an opportunity to catch another airing. He cherished it like some do old family photos.

Wednesday saw William leave his residence. While he never made it completely outside, he did trek down to the foyer to check his mail. He thought he heard it raining outside but when he reached the building's front door the skies were clear. Great. Not only was he a self-loathing antisocial, now he was hearing things. A feeling of relief set in when he decided the onset of insanity would make his life more interesting. Then again, so could a letter from Mark Lynn- Baker, star of the hilariously funny late 80's sitcom "Perfect Strangers." Alas, there was no letter from Mr. Lynn-Baker, just a few random advertisements. Oh, Cousin Larry, why must you be so cruel?

William shoved the sorry excuse for mail back into the box and returned up the stairs empty- handed. When he reached the third-floor landing, he once again heard the mystifying tapping sound. It became louder the closer he got to Meghan's door. He gently pressed his left ear to the painted steel barrier. The noise was definitely coming from inside her apartment. After initially fearing that she was sending some sort of distress signal through Morse Code, the mystery's solution came to light. The staccato machine gun rhythm was that of typing. Meghan's bout with writer's block was apparently a thing of the past. Good for her.

William slipped back into his apartment and started anew his fierce regiment of television viewing; another movie (Hitchcock's "Shadow of a Doubt"), more Letterman, more O'Brien, and more Nick-at-Nite. The Taxi syndication cycle was at its zenith. "Jim the Psychic" followed the previous night's opus. It featured everyone's favorite downtrodden cabbie, Alex Rieger, trying to survive a prediction of doom dreamt by good ol' Reverend Jim. Life was bliss, for at least a half hour.

There were no good movies on Thursday evening. Something would have to fill the void. The canvas remained silent. He sat on his couch and stared at it, trying to find a meaning to spoil its dignity. There was none.

An hour passed and he was still barren. Something had to be done. He couldn't wait any longer. The more he put it off the harder it would be. It had to be now. William rose to his feet. He approached the canvas with a sense of purpose. Then, before he could even pick up a brush, the motivation vanished. He beat a hasty exit stage right.

He found himself outside in the hall trying to regain his composure. He actually felt out of breath. There was a light coming from under Meghan's door, but that was all. The rapid fire clicking was absent. He frantically stared back and forth between the two doors as he considered his options. A return to his place seemed a sure death sentence. He spun and placed a desperate knock for help.

Meghan's eyes lit up when she saw him. "Hey!" She brushed her hair behind her ear, as she was wont to do, and took his left hand in hers. "Come on in!"

William wasn't expecting such a warm response. He was equal parts relieved and confused. He happily allowed her to lead him into the apartment. She was practically glowing.

"I'm sorry I haven't talked to you the last couple days. Here, sit. You want anything to drink?"

"No, that's okay," answered William, still a bit overwhelmed at the sheer energy she was radiating. It seemed as if someone's mommy had given her too much money for the candy machine.

"Like I said, I'm really sorry," continued Meghan as she poured herself a glass of ice water. "I meant to stop over and see you but I've just been so busy I lost track of time."

"No problem."

"It's just been incredible!" She danced her way back into the room and sat down in the swivel chair in front of her still whirring computer, spinning the seat around to face William on the couch. "I've been typing nearly nonstop since the last time we were together. Your timing was great, I was just about to take a break. I don't know what it is, but it's just flowing. I wrote twenty-one pages yesterday! Twenty-one! I've never written that much before in one day!"

"That's great. I'm glad to hear it."

"It's just a wonderful feeling to be writing again. The words are just coming to me. It's almost unconscious. And it's all making sense. For the first time, the entire plot is making sense. There are no more uncertain areas. I realize exactly where I want to take it!" She highlighted her jubilance by playfully spinning around in her chair. "The creative process can be so liberating, don't you think?"

He could do no more than smile and gesture with his hands in silent agreement. Seeing her so happy was a joy unto itself. William couldn't help but sit there in amazement at her unbridled exuberance.

Her hyper pace slowed for a moment. She leaned forward. "It's really great to see you again." William didn't know what to do so he just kept smiling. "I'm sorry! Listen to me, could I be any more self-absorbed? How are things going with you?"

"Oh, they're going."

"Have you been painting?"

"Not really. I'm kind of experiencing my own slump at the moment."

Meghan sat up in her chair. "Aw, I feel terrible. Here I am going on and on about my... and you're..."

"No, don't worry about it. I'm happy for you. I'll be fine. Don't worry about me."

"Is there anything I can do to help?"

"Well, I just came over because I was looking to get away from it for a bit. But if you're working I don't want to mess you up."

"No, don't be silly. Besides I'm way ahead of schedule anyway. So, what, did you just want to talk?"

"Yeah, talking would be great. I like to talk."

"You want to go get a drink somewhere?"

"I don't know, I'm not a real big drinker." They both stared at each other while trying to think of another idea. William offered a half-hearted suggestion. "You feel like watching a movie or somethin'?

"No, not really. I think I'm a little too revved up to sit still for any length of time."

They both began to look around the room for inspiration. After a significant lull, Meghan chose to confront the obvious. "You want to..." she punctuated the shy proposal with a slight nod towards the bedroom.

William's response was a lightning quick "Okay."

As she did just moments before, Meghan cheerfully grabbed his hand and once again led him where he wanted to go. With this being their third time together, both parties were much more comfortable with one another. Yet Meghan was still on such a creative high that she remained in the role of the aggressor. William had all he could do to just try and keep up.

They finished with her on top. And unlike in the past when orgasm seemed to signal the end of the encounter, this time she curled up beside him and gave no sense of wanting to leave.

"I feel so alive," she proclaimed with a rather girly lilt.

"And that's good?"

She sat up and straddled him once more, still wearing the beaming smile that had been a constant since she first opened her door. "Of course it's good! It's wonderful! C'mon, let's go again!"

"You gotta give me a minute. You know I'm frail."

She leaned forward and kissed him before returning to her upright position. William took both her hands in his and just stared up at her with profound appreciation.

"What?" she laughed.

William cracked a smile. "You're so beautiful."

Meghan blushed a moment and then kissed him again, only this time she didn't bother to sit back up. She rolled into the crook of his left arm and came to rest. William kissed her on the top of the head and held her close.

"You know I still don't really know that much about you."

"What do you want to know?" asked Meghan.

"Were you born in Hadleyville?"

"No, I grew up in Jeannette." Jeannette was a neighboring town that was known for little else than having a 7-11 that served both Slush Puppies and Slurpies. That's a rare combination indeed.

"So you're a Jeannette girl?"

"Through and through."

"In that case I'll talk very slowly."

"Hey!"

"Aw, I tease in fun. But did you hear about the fire at the Jeannette library? It was terrible. They lost both books."

"Very funny."

"I'm not saying Jeannette is small, but you have to leave town just to change your mind."

"Any more?"

"Just one. I hear that everyone in Jeannette is scraping the paint off their houses. It's not that they don't like the colors, they just thought the town could use the extra room."

"I take it you were born and raised in Hadleyville?"

"And proud of it. In the world of mediocre, pathetically hopeless cities, Hadleyville is king. So when did you climb on board the bandwagon?"

"I went to school at Pitt at Hadleyville."

"Oh really?"

"Yeah."

"I know some people that go to Pitt at Hadleyville. You ever heard of a kid named Lou Wilson?"

"No, can't say that I have."

"Sean Frye?"

"Sorry."

"It's probably for the best. So you moved into town just to go to Pitt at Hadleyville?"

"Yeah."

"That's kind of odd, isn't it? I mean, it's not that far from Jeannette."

"A friend of mine was getting an apartment in town and needed a roommate. Besides, I really wanted to get out on my own."

"I could see that. So you graduated with a degree in...?"

"Liberal Arts with a focus on Creative Writing"

"How do your parents feel about you going to college for four years and then still working at the Barnes and Noble full time?"

"They know I want to write my book. And I support myself, so there's not a whole lot they can say. Where did you go to school?"

"I went to high school at Salem, but I never made it to college. I'm not that bright."

"You just didn't want to go?"

"I'm not big on the school. I knew I wanted to be an artist. Going to school wasn't going to help me any. You're either born an artist or you're not. Those that can do and those that can't go to school. No offense."

"None taken. Did your parents give you a hard time?"

"If you don't mind I'd rather not talk about my parents at the moment."

"Oh, I'm sorry. Are they a sore subject with you?"

"No, not at all. It's just I don't like to think about them when I'm not wearing pants. It's a personal rule I have. And I must enforce it."

"Okay."

"We'll talk about them some other time, but right now we're all about you. I want to talk about you. Like, why'd you move in here?"

"I was living downtown but they kind of wanted to demolish the building."

"Wow, sort of like 'Bosom Buddies.'"

"I don't know what that means."

"That's my bad. I forgot you're television impaired. 'Bosom Buddies' was an obscure early 80's sitcom starring Tom Hanks and Peter Scolari."

"Tom Hanks used to be on TV?"

"Yeah, he had to start somewhere. It's not like he could just jump into films like 'Bachelor Party' and 'The Man with One Red Shoe' without first paying his dues. Anyway, they played best friends and roommates that worked at an advertising agency, which accounts for the 'Buddies' portion of the show's title."

"Fascinating."

"It gets better. When their apartment building got torn down, they couldn't find another place they could afford until a co-worker and friend of theirs told them that there was an available place where she lived. Except the catch was that she lived in a hotel for women."

"Uh oh."

"Exactly. So with no other choice, they began dressing up like women in order to live there, which accounts for the 'Bosom' section of the title. Because, you know, women have breasts."

"No!"

"But not only does 'bosom' mean breast, it can also mean 'cherished.'

"You don't say."

"No, it's true. I looked it up. So not only were they close, cherished friends, but they also wore fake breasts, giving the title, 'Bosom Buddies,' a wickedly clever double meaning."

"Plus, 'Breast Buddies' really wouldn't sound good."

"Yeah, that might be a tough sell."

"And the point of this history lesson?"

"Well, you said your old apartment building was being torn down, so naturally my first thought was of 'Bosom Buddies.'"

"So that's how your mind works, huh?"

"Pretty much. I always associate things with television. Like, one time when I was a little kid I was watching Mr. Rogers and eating a grilled cheese sandwich. And there was a deaf guy on the show that day. So now whenever I see a deaf person, I automatically think of Mr. Rogers and grilled cheese sandwiches."

"Isn't there like a psychological term for that?"

"So you're saying I'm nuts?"

"No, that specific process of remembering things has a name. Is it just association? Or layering? Does layering sound right?"

"I don't know. I didn't go to college. Remember? From before?" She gave him a shot to the ribs. "Aw, c'mon, I'm fragile..."

"I want you to stay tonight."

"Really?"

"Yeah." She slipped her way back on top of him. "Unless you don't want to..."

"Oh, I want to. But I'm just a little worried. Well, not worried really..."

"About what?"

"About our situation in general... and how I fit in with Carl."

"Who?"

"Your boyfriend."

"His name's Mark."

"Well, don't you think that's something we should probably talk about?"

"Later."

"You don't want to talk about it now?"

"No."

She really had a way with negative responses. Just call him Charlie Two Times. Afterwards, despite the intense physical activity, William wasn't the least bit drowsy, somewhat lightheaded, sure, but not sleepy. It was still just 12:34 in the AM. He hadn't gone to bed that early in years. No matter how hard he tried, it just wasn't going to happen.

He also hadn't really eaten anything yet. He was in the habit of having his one meal between one and two in the morning. So there he was lying wide-awake and hungry in a dark room with a girl he just met one week ago. There aren't that many lucky stars in the sky.

For a moment he considered sneaking back across the hall to get something to eat, and after all, "Taxi" would be coming on soon. But he simply couldn't bear to pull himself away from her. And it wasn't just because she fell asleep on his left arm. It was more than that. For the first time in his life he didn't feel quite so alone. He felt whole. He felt as one. But he still didn't feel tired.

He figured if he just kept his eyes closed long enough he'd eventually drift off. His eyes opened and found the glowing red digits of a clock on the nightstand to his right. They read 12:56. He closed his eyes again. He made a game of it. He tried to see how long he could keep his eyes shut, and then he attempted to beat that time. The game was halted when he realized just how lame it was. Although, he did last 14 minutes on one occasion and momentarily entertained the thought of turning pro.

It was now 2:34. He began to recite in his head the original 43 episodes of "Columbo." He memorized them as most kids learn their state capitals. He had broken the episodes down into one easy to remember number: 73322213322322222. It was diabolical, really. There were seven episodes that featured women as the killer, three that starred Jack Cassidy, three Robert Culp, two Patrick McGoohan, two Robert Vaughn, two with a Star Trek connection (Leonard Nimoy and William Shatner), one with TV hero Dick Van Dyke, three that involved political crime of some sort, three involved food, two music, two art, three had other notable guest stars (Robert Conrad, Ray Milland, George Hamilton), two took place outside the United States, two involved buildings, two involved really smart people, two were wild cards that didn't fit in any other category, and the last pair was made up of the final two episodes of the series. It's just that simple.

He tested himself until he could rattle off the entire string three times without error. He checked the clock. It was 3:36. What the hell? One more time just for fun.

By now his left arm was completely dead. Maybe one day, after extensive rehabilitation, he would be able to regain a full range of motion. He didn't care. He wasn't about to ask her to move.

The drapes on the window were open. The combination of streetlights and a partially luminous moon allowed him to see into the residential neighborhood across the way. It was a good bit off in the distance, and he didn't recognize it at first since it wasn't the standard angle from which he usually viewed it, but the scene did create somewhat of a diversion.

The available light carved out a small patch of a distant hill from the veil of darkness around it. He concentrated on the highlighted area, counting a grand total of two cars in his hours of vigilance. He tried to make up background stories for the drivers. Where were they going at this time of night? Maybe they were heading home from an evening on the town? Maybe they just worked strange hours? Or maybe there was a medical emergency of some sort? One thing was for sure. This would have made the most boring television show in the history of the planet. No, wait a minute. He suddenly remembered that one episode of "Welcome Back, Kotter" that tried to create a spinoff for the Horshack family. Now that was brutal. William always considered Horshack like cheap wine; a little bit is okay, but too much and you'll wake up in a pool of your own vomit. Graphic, but accurate.

It was a little after seven when William finally found slumber. The next time he opened his eyes it was 10:27. He could hear the shower running. He tried to roll over on his right side and go back to sleep but his left arm stayed behind. After a few futile attempts to swing it over on its own, he was forced to grab it with his right hand and pull it into place.

He was just about to doze off again when he heard the shower stop. He rolled over and tried to rub some strength into his eyes with the heels of his palms. He took one of the CDs from the nightstand and used it as a mirror to give himself a quick once-over. Wow, he needed sleep.

"Hey," smiled Meghan, as she walked into the room still drying her hair with a towel. "Did you sleep well?"

William could barely keep his eyes open. "Oh, I slept like a log. In fact, I woke up in the middle of the night and found myself in the fireplace."

"That was terrible."

"What do you want? It's early."

And there she was looking so clean, looking so pure. She stood over him with her head tilted to one side as she continued to rub the dampness from her hair. She looked remarkable. How could she look so damn good this early?

"You look beat," she said, tossing the towel on the foot of the bed.

"I'm not used to these strange hours. This is about the time I usually go to bed."

"Really?"

"Yeah."

"So you're basically nocturnal?"

"No, heights really don't bother me."

Her smile got wider. "Did you get any sleep at all?"

"A little bit... little bit." He tried to push himself up but his left arm gave out and he slumped to the side.

"What's wrong with your arm?"

"You sort of slept on it."

"Aw, I'm sorry." She climbed back into bed and began to massage some feeling back into the lethargic limb. "And you were awake all night?"

"Pretty much."

"Why didn't you tell me to move?"

"That's just the kind of guy I am."

"That's sweet." She kissed him on the cheek. "Does that feel any better?"

"Not really, but keep doing it."

"Do you want to go back to sleep?"

He started to sit up to leave. "Yeah, maybe that would be best..."

"No, it's okay. Stay here as long as you want. It's no bother."

"You sure?"

"Yeah, I'll just be out there trying to write." She got up and closed the drapes on the window. "Just let me know if you need anything."

"I'll be fine."

"Okay, well, good night, I guess."

"Thanks."

She gave a little wave and then gently closed the door behind her. Usually once William was up, he was up. But three hours is kind of silly.

As William tried to catch up on some needed rest, Meghan resumed the assault on her keyboard. The words were once again pouring forth without much effort. The past two days were no fluke. The writer's block was officially gone. Usually there was at least a warming up period where she'd go over her previous night's work and ease her way back into the flow. But on this day she just sat down and immediately picked up where she left off. She woke up with an abundance of creativity and wasted little time in transferring it to the screen.

Even though to her it only seemed like minutes, a few hours had passed when she heard a knock at her front door. She wasn't expecting anyone. She saved her file, shrunk down the program, and approached the door with a great deal of curiosity, thinking 'Wouldn't it be funny if it was Mark.' She gave a peek through the peephole. It was Mark. And it wasn't funny.

She didn't know what to do. Should she pretend she wasn't home? Should she go wake William? Both options were dashed by another knock and an "It's me."

She took a deep breath and opened the door.

"Hi!" she smiled, trying to fake sincerity. "What are you doing here?"

"Hey," he gave her a kiss and entered the apartment, even though he had to go in sideways to get around her. He casually made his way to the kitchen and began pouring himself a glass of water. "I had to come back home to pick up some disks, so I figured I'd swing by and see if you've had lunch yet."

Meghan reluctantly closed the door as she ransacked her brain for a way out. "Um, no, I haven't."

Mark leaned up against the refrigerator and took a drink. "So you want to go out somewhere?"

"Okay. Yeah, that'll work." She nervously gestured to the bedroom. "Just... just let me go change clothes."

"You look fine."

"No, these jeans are awful. I'll just be a minute."

Mark started to follow her back to the bedroom. "You wouldn't believe what Danny wanted me to do today..."

Meghan stopped dead in her tracks, causing him to bump into her and spill some water on himself.

"Geez!"

"Sorry."

"What's the matter?"

"Nothing." She grabbed his hand and started to lead him back into the living room. "I just got a new White Stripes concert the other day. Here, check it out."

She sat him down at the computer and turned the volume way up.

"Isn't that kind of loud?" questioned Mark.

"No, the louder the better." She began backing up the hallway. "You just sit there and I'll be out in a second."

Meghan, who had just raced into the bedroom, pulled the door behind her as she stepped back into the hall and hollered, "I'll be right out." Before she closed to door she popped back into the hallway as if to add something but couldn't think of what to say.

She shut the door tight and flipped on the lights. William started to regain consciousness.

"Hey, what's goin' on?" he asked drowsily through half-opened eyes.

Meghan sat down on the bed next to him and put her index finger up to her lips, which of course is the international symbol for shhhhh, and then tried to whisper a reply.

"Mark's here," she mouthed deliberately.

"Wha'?"

She attempted to further compose herself, trying even harder to clearly mouth her soft-spoken statement. "Mark is here."

"Who?" asked William, still half asleep.

"My boyfriend is here."

This time William comprehended the message. "Larry's here?" he said with some degree of panic. Meghan put her hand over his mouth in an effort to silence him and repeated her plea for shhhh.

William finally caught on and joined in on the hushed conversation. "What's he doing here?"

"He just stopped by to take me out to lunch."

"Aw, that's nice of him," said William with some admiration. "But kind of rude too when you think about it, I mean I would have at least called first."

Meghan stood up and began to undress.

William held a welcoming arm out to her. "Okay, but be quiet. He's just in the other room."

She gave him a disapproving look. "I told him I had to change clothes." She hurried to the closet and pulled out a pair of slacks and a sweater. "He might want to come back here after, so make sure you're gone when we get back."

"Yeah, okay."

William slid his way to the edge of the bed and pulled on his pants. He pushed his hands through his hair a few times and slowly got to his feet. He attempted to stretch out the kinks as he plodded towards Meghan, who was still frantically trying to don her sweater. When he reached his goal, he kissed her in an effort to calm her down. They both stood there for a moment staring at one another. He was smiling but she still wore quite the troubled expression. Just when it seemed she was completely lost, she snapped to life and kissed him. It was a hard, passionate kiss, at least until she heard the bedroom door open.

Meghan immediately broke it off and shoved William into the closet, sending him off balance into the thick row of hangers and eventually to the floor.

She snapped her head around in time to hear Mark's voice ask, "Meg, you ready yet?" through a cracked door.

"Yeah," she opened the door just enough for her to slink through and greeted him with a smile.

"That concert's really good."

"What? Oh yeah, I love it." Meghan stormed to the computer and turned off the music, doing her best to get Mark out of the apartment as quickly as possible.

"So where do you want to go?" he asked, as he opened the door for her.

"Wherever." She gestured for him to go out first. "I forgot my keys. Hold on." She streaked back to the bedroom and found William still sitting in the closet rubbing his shoulder. She knelt down to his eye level and put her hand on his knee. "Sorry. I'll be over to see you when I can."

"Okay."

She rushed back to the door and nearly forgot to pick her keys off the dresser on her way out. Mark was still waiting in the hall. "Okay, let's go." She locked her apartment door behind them with a great sense of relief.

William waited until he heard the front door's lock turn before making it to his feet.

"She doesn't look that strong," he muttered to himself, testing to see if his right shoulder still functioned. He gathered up the rest of his clothes and split.

He was in the hall before he remembered to go back and lock her door. He forgot to lock his the night before. Luckily, he didn't have much worth stealing. The TV was still there. That's all that mattered.

Dropping the loose clothing on the floor, he lumbered to the VCR and inserted a tape at random. He turned on the TV, hit play, and collapsed on the couch. Good. It was a Jack Cassidy episode.

William slept until about six in the evening. After showering and whatnot he took root on the couch and began to devour a bag of pretzels. He was thoroughly enjoying an episode of "NewsRadio" when he noticed a piece of paper that had apparently been shoved under the door earlier in the day. It was a note from Meghan that read: "Come over when you can." William ate a few more pretzels and enjoyed a cool refreshing glass of water before making the journey across the hall.

"I got your note," said William, holding the paper up as proof.

Meghan welcomed him inside. "I knocked but you must have been sleeping or something."

William cautiously looked around the apartment. "Where's Frank?"

"Who?"

"Your boyfriend."

"His name's Mark," she said with some exasperation. "He just dropped me off after lunch. He had to go back to work."

William took a seat on the couch. "And you guys aren't going out or anything tonight?"

"No. You want anything to drink or I still probably have that potato?"

"No thanks, I just ate."

Meghan sat down in her desk chair. She was sort of acting the same way she did the night she showed up at his door. William kind of knew what to expect. He tried to delay it.

"What does he do?"

"He works with computers, writing code and stuff."

"He probably makes good money, huh?"

"Yes."

"I'm not a big fan of computers myself. Kids today just have it way too easy. It's like having a big porn receptacle in the corner of your room. That's just not right. Back when I was a kid we had to get our porn the old-fashioned way, by bribing winos to go buy it for us. I'll never forget ol' Gus..."

Meghan didn't respond to the humor. She obviously had more important things on her mind, because usually any joke that includes a wino named Gus kills.

"You think now might be a good time to have that talk?" asked William.

"Yeah."

"Do you mind if I ask how long you guys have been going out?"

"We've been together off and on since our junior year in high school."

"Really? So you are serious then, huh?"

She kept looking at the floor. "Yeah."

"Have you ever talked marriage?"

"On occasion. Not all that much. But it was almost understood that one day we would."

"So you obviously care about this guy a lot."

"Yeah."

"Do you love him?"

"I thought I did." She got up and started pacing. "But we're two totally different people anymore. He's so involved with his work... and he's so... mechanical. There's really not a creative bone in his body. Just look at what he does for a living. I'd kill myself if I had to do something that monotonous every day, but he loves it. It just seems the longer we've been together the further we've grown apart. And he still eats meat. I can't tell you how much that bothers me."

"But..."

"But I still care for him. I mean, he was my first real boyfriend. And we've been together so long."

"And he still loves you?"

"I don't even think he's aware of any problems between us. I haven't talked to him about anything."

"And he treats you right?"

"He treats me wonderfully. He's just a great guy. He's honest, generous, caring, thoughtful, polite, hard-working... most girls would be thrilled to be in a relationship with him."

"From the sound of it, so would I."

"That's why I feel so terrible about what we're doing."

"I'm kind of feeling bad about it myself now."

"I just don't know what to do. I still care for him but you're so different. You're so... so... you."

"Thanks... I think."

"It was meant as a compliment."

"Well, do you want to take that time to think like we talked about before?"

Meghan sat down on the couch beside him. She took his right hand in hers and looked him in the eye. "Maybe we should."

"It's your call."

"What if we take a one-week break?"

"So we have no contact for a week?"

"Well, we don't have to like ignore each other if we run into one another in the hall or something, but I think the whole sleeping together thing should be off limits."

"For one week?"

"Yeah. And we'll take the time apart to think about where things should go from here. Are you okay with this?"

"Yeah, that's cool," agreed William.

"Like I said before, I don't want to hurt you. The last thing I want to do is hurt you."

"I appreciate that. And I understand. I think it'll be good for both of us to take a step back and evaluate things."

They sat there in silence trying to put the other at ease. William placed his left hand on top of hers. "I have a question, though..."

Meghan focused her attention but didn't speak. William waited a beat and continued.

"This no-sex-for-a-week thing... it doesn't start until tomorrow, right?"

"Oh, yeah, of course."