Re: Cat and Jack
He spoke of trust, and she didn't agree. Oh, trust was important, but something could live a long, long time without it. It wasn't a requirement, and sometimes the coming together after, sometimes that was an even more alluring kind of addiction. Perhaps it was different for him, but trust wasn't a requirement in her experience, in her past. She'd never trusted Bruce. He'd never trusted her. It hadn't gotten in the way of things. No, priorities were the problem, but she was willing to let him have his own opinion. She could be magnanimous, but it didn't mean she thought he was right.
As for selflessness? Well, it wasn't something she knew. But she could recognize it in other people, even if she'd never tasted the feeling herself. The closest she had come was motherhood, and everyone knew just how poorly she'd done at that.
But Jack was Talking.
It was the kind of story she'd sought in the dark, without knowing the teller.
He finished talking, his beer discarded, and she chuckled and wished for a good bottle of Russian vodka. If the past was burning a line down her throat, then it might as well taste good. Cat, she was always a hedonist, even when things hurt. But he told his story, and she scoffed. "You left out the part where you loved her, or is that revisionist history?" She finished her own drink, and she let the cup fall where it would. "You also skipped the part where she died."
Cat knew all about messy, but she didn't think messy couldn't be walking hand in hand, gray hair and so many memories. "She was happy. Not always, because anyone who claims they're always happy?" She shook her head and tsked. "I had my happy moments too, you know. Incandescently happy moments, exhilarating moments. No one spends a lifetime sleeping with the same man if they aren't happy some of the time. But you've deliberately excluded your happy moments." She turned her mossy gaze on him steadily. "Is it easier that way?"