Re: NY sidewalk: Russ & Sam
Sam didn't give a shit about better places. The streetcorner was just fucking fine, but she'd grown up with paper-thin walls, and street corners were just as fucking private as living rooms. Life wasn't private, and even all those years with Neil couldn't take the slums out of the girl with the gap-tooth smile. Nobody was fucking listening anyway, yeah? It was New York. Nobody gave a shit about anyone in New York unless they were eying them as a mark or whatever. NY was look down and don't make fucking eye contact, man. Yeah, no, she didn't care.
He gave when she shoved. Rocked back, and that was some satisfying shit. Her girlfriend, the one before Neil, had been a scrapper. Their relationship had been screaming and pulling hair and foreheads connecting with fucking doorknobs. Bruises for days, and diners at 2 am after drug deals, and as much laughter as yelling. That was the shit that she was used to, and between Al and Neil it had been a breath of fresh fucking air. But Russ had the decency to stumble a step back, and that made her feel better. Fuck whether that shit was right or wrong, because it just was.
"I never talked to you like that before because you talked down to me like I'm your kid fucking brother, Russ. Don't put this shit on me. You think of me as some kid sister, and fucking fine, but I'm not. Whatever. I saw you in that fucking bar, and you immediately went into kid mode, and I didn't want to do that. Whatever. I talk to Daniel anon too, yeah? He knows it's me. I know he does, but he thinks I don't know it's his ass, so he says shit different too, and I'm just fucking tired and fed up. And sorry, shoot me, but I'm lonely and I'm sad. I spent two fucking years with Neil. I miss the asshole, ok? Yeah, so he wasn't the best friend or lover or whatever, but I lived with him for years, and he picked me up every single time I fucking fell, and no one else did that. I get it. I'm a huge fucking catastrophe, but that means I'm not the fucking same, so quit treating me like I am. The kid you knew died as soon as Micah took that knife out."
He grabbed onto her sleeve, and she yanked. "Ask what? I don't need to fucking ask. The only reason anything here has changed is because you saw some fucking eye-opening hotel shit. You didn't see it for yourself, yeah? No, the hotel told you. That fucking crap doesn't count. You want to get to know me, get to know me. Don't bitch at me about it on the side of a street."
Then his mouth softened, and she knew exactly why. Fuck, you, and she shoved with both hands, hard, and then she took a step back. "I'm going. You're going to fucking let me go, and if you want to see me after Thanksgiving or whatever, you give me a call. But right now? I need to not be here. Respect that shit, yeah?" Olive branch.