Everything Pales in Comparision

by Rebecca Swartz

  Yes, anything is better than this.

  She continued with her run, hearing Daina moving about the house, but paying no attention. Fifteen minutes later she hit the cool down button. Finally, she stepped off the treadmill, did a few rudimentary stretches and left for the bathroom next door. She splashed water on her face, and after toweling herself dry, studied her reflection in the mirror. She inhaled deeply and exhaled slowly. You can do this, she told herself. It’s no big deal, you’ll be fine.

  She left the bathroom and made her way to the kitchen. Daina was sitting in her customary place at the end of the dining room table, an elbow on the table, her cheek resting against her palm. She seemed to be reading something and didn’t look up as Emma entered.

  Emma went to the fridge and grabbed a bottle of water. She opened it and took a deep swallow as the fridge door swung shut with a soft thump.

  At the sound, Daina looked up and the expression on her face froze Emma in her tracks. The look was cold and hard.

  “Why are you here?” Daina asked flatly, point-blank.

  Emma stared at her, dumbfounded, understanding the question, and yet not understanding it. “What?” she managed to ask, sounding as confused as she felt.

  “Why are you here?” Enunciating each word this time, a definite edge to her voice, to her look.

  Emma just blinked. She couldn’t think of how to answer the question.

  “Oh, you can’t answer that? Well, then, let me change the question.” She grabbed the sheet of paper from the tabletop. Shoving the chair back, she got to her feet and advanced one step toward Emma. “What the fuck is this?” she demanded hotly, holding out the paper.

  And Emma knew instantly what this was; it was the letter, that damning letter. Oh, shit. She couldn’t even begin to condemn herself for her sloppiness. Placing the bottle of water off to the side, she tried to collect her thoughts.

  “Okay, Daina, wait, listen,” she began, one hand out in an effort to placate, “this isn’t—this was not my idea. I argued against it, but Michaels thought—”

  “Michaels?” Daina’s tone was disparaging, disbelieving.

  Emma realized her words sounded dangerously close to an attempt to shift blame, and Daina had caught it. Still, she pushed on. “Yes, Michaels,” she asserted. “He thought the situation would be better served if—”

  “Fuck you.” Daina’s voice rose an octave. She now sounded insulted as well as skeptical.

  “No, listen to me,” Emma said heatedly. “I am as much a part of this as you are. Did you read the letter, Daina? Did you read the fucking letter? This is what they came up with, to protect both of us. They didn’t know what else to do, and Michaels said—”

  “Fuck you,” Daina said again, but this time she looked and sounded disgusted. Her tone held a note of finality. She flung the sheet of paper at Emma and stormed past her.

  Emma stood, frozen, stunned into immobility. She watched the letter waft to the floor. Her gaze remained fixed on it until she heard Daina’s bedroom door slam. She flinched. What the hell just happened?

  She realized an instant later what a stupid question that was. What had happened was exactly what she had feared would happen, why she had been against Michaels’ idea in the first place. At the thought of him she was filled with a sudden anger, sharp and searing.

  You stupid, cocksure bastard, she thought, for the moment perfectly willing to heap all the blame on him. Before too many more moments had passed she saw how unfair that was. It was she who had violated Daina’s trust, with little more effort than would have been required to just walk up and slap her in the face. It amounted to the same thing, really.

  Nicely done, she snidely congratulated herself. Her eyes alighted once more on the sheet of paper. A surge of irritation flooded her. She snatched it up, and in a fit of pique, mashed the paper into a crude ball and flung it away from her. It struck the windowpane and bounced off to drop into the stainless steel kitchen sink. Too bad there wasn’t a Garburator to finish the task of disposal properly.

  She stalked across the kitchen to the patio doors. She needed to think, to decide how to proceed. She needed the space and freedom of the outdoors.

  For the better part of an hour she paced. Being outside cleared her mind, the endless pacing occupied her physically. Eventually, she reached the verge of exhaustion. Her legs felt leaden, her mind, her thoughts, were thick and muddy.

  Her concern for Daina drove her back into the house. She approached Daina’s room with trepidation, summoning whatever courage and conviction she had left, and knocked politely, three times. Her heart rate had sped up, her mouth was suddenly dry. Swallowing, she waited a full count of ten, forcing herself into an attitude of relaxation that she didn’t feel.

  Receiving no response, she was loath to just leave it at that and walk away. She knocked again, but this time she spoke, saying, “Daina? Can we talk?”

  “Don’t,” she heard from within. “Just go away, Emma. Leave me alone.”

  Daina’s voice was calm, completely without rancor. It was utterly flat and cold, and the bluntness of her words sliced through Emma keenly. For the first time, she felt a thread of fear wend its way through her.

  ***

  Four hours later Emma stood at the counter opposite the kitchen sink. She was now so worried and worn out, she felt physically ill. She trembled minutely, stricken with some sort of palsy, the cure for which sat behind a closed bedroom door down the hall. She held the phone in one hand. She had been just about to make a call, but then she had stalled, uncertain. She stared blindly through the cut-away into the living room.

  “What are you doing?”

  She started violently, heart lurching in her chest, and almost dropped the phone. She grabbed at it, regained her hold, and whirled to see Daina standing in the doorway.

  “Jesus Christ, you scared the shit out of me!”

  “I’m sorry,” Daina said quietly, and then reiterated, “What are you doing?”

  Emma was aware that her hand was shaking, that her whole being was shaking. She made a gesture with the phone. “I was…going to call Michaels,” she said, deciding to tell the truth, incapable of any kind of deceit at this point. She couldn’t read Daina’s tone or expression. “I thought I’d see about…making some other arrangements, leave you to yourself—”

  “Don’t.” Daina stepped forward. “Please.” She reached to take the phone from Emma’s hand.

  Emma surrendered it, wondering at the look in Daina’s eyes. “But, I thought—”

  “That’s the trouble, you know,” Daina broke in gently. “You think too much.”

  Emma blinked and watched mutely as Daina moved to place the phone back in its cradle. She was paralyzed by her closeness.

  Daina met her eyes once more. “There’s something I need to say to you,” she said quietly, intently. “But before I do, I need to ask you something.”

  The look in those clear blue eyes was troubled and searching, and Emma almost quailed before it. “What?” she whispered.

  Daina shook her head once, in quick negation, more as if in dismissal of the question. And then her gaze sharpened. She took a half-step forward, reached up to slide her right hand to the back of Emma’s neck and gently pulled her closer.

  Emma’s eyes widened as she realized Daina’s intent. A moment later, she closed them, fearing her heart would stop. And at the first touch, the first soft, gentle pressure of Daina’s lips on hers, she literally stopped breathing. She was aware of her heart pounding, aware of an almost subliminal heat rushing through her, aware of the cool touch of Daina’s fingers, that those fingers trembled as she, herself, was still trembling. She was aware of everything and she was aware of nothing.

  The kiss was tentative, questioning almost, in its tenderness. Emma did her best to provide an answer of some kind in return, hoping it was enough.

  And when they parted, and she remembered to breathe, she looked at Daina and met a gaze that was completely calm.

>   “Don’t ever keep anything that important from me again. Please,” Daina whispered.

  Emma could only nod. She could still feel Daina’s lips on hers and she felt an almost dizzying mix of weakness and strength infusing her. Completely overwhelmed, she wasn’t surprised in the least to realize she was going to cry.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  Daina watched the tears flood Emma’s eyes and thought helplessly, Oh, Christ, I’ve done it again.

  “Oh, hey, no,” she said with some alarm. “No, no, no, come on, please, don’t cry.”

  But it was useless. A person didn’t stop crying simply because someone asked them to. Emma brought her hands up to cover her face, bowing her head. Her shoulders began to shake, yet she wept in complete silence.

  It broke Daina’s heart to witness this strong, brave woman reduced to tearful emotion. She, herself, was so emotionally ragged she was afraid she was going to start crying if Emma didn’t stop. She grabbed a handful of tissues from a nearby Kleenex box, then gently placed her hand on Emma’s trembling shoulder.

  “Hey, hey, come on, please, don’t cry, okay?” She leaned in close, pleading softly. “It’s okay, everything’s okay, I’ve got some Kleenex, just don’t cry, okay, ’cause if you don’t stop, I’m gonna start, and then where will we be, huh?”

  She ended with a shaky laugh, totally unfeigned, but her words seemed to have no effect. Emma continued to cry and actually began to turn away. Daina did the only other thing she could think of, which required no thought whatsoever.

  “No, no, no, hey, come here,” she said softly, taking a half step forward. She gently grasped Emma’s arms, brought her back around, and pulling her in close, wrapped her arms around her. Emma, completely unresisting, draped her own arms over Daina’s shoulders, lowered her head and wept into the curve of Daina’s neck.

  There was barely an inch difference in their height. It was a comfortable embrace. For the short while that it lasted, Daina felt she could hold onto Emma like this forever. She whispered a few words of comfort, stroked her hair a couple of times, but mainly just held her. Eventually, she felt the tension leaving Emma’s body; her trembling eased, and her sniffling wound down.

  “Okay?” she queried gently.

  She felt Emma nod against her shoulder. She took a step back and Emma brought her hands up to wipe at her reddened eyes and tear-stained cheeks. Daina held up the Kleenex, which was accepted with a grateful smile. In the aftermath of her emotional outburst, Emma’s beauty seemed almost ethereal.

  “Better?” Daina asked.

  Emma nodded. “Yes, much,” she replied, though her voice was barely above a whisper, as if she might still be on slightly shaky ground.

  “Come on then,” Daina said, as gently as before.

  She led Emma into the living room to the sofa. She leaned forward, resting her forearms on her knees, palms pressed together. She looked intently into Emma’s brown eyes.

  “We need to talk,” she said softly.

  And Emma nodded, calm now, focused, her own arms resting on her thighs, hands clasped together, fingers interlocked. “I know,” she breathed, somewhat sadly. “I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t,” Daina said, quietly but firmly. “Don’t be sorry. Don’t apologize anymore. Just tell me what’s going on, what’s been going on.”

  And Emma did, haltingly at first, as if unsure of how her words would be received. But Daina listened calmly, attentively, without interrupting, and in the face of her patience Emma’s narrative began to flow more smoothly.

  She told of finding the letter (that fucking letter, she called it, causing Daina to smile ever so slightly), of how she’d delivered it to Michaels, how it was he who’d spelled out the implications of it because she hadn’t made the connection. She told of the subsequent interview with the detective and the investigative team, and ruefully explained how she’d felt about her inadvertent coming out. Daina nodded with understanding and sympathy. She’d read the letter. Its blatant disclosure would have been difficult to deny or ignore in light of the circumstances.

  Emma continued by telling of the phone call she’d received at her apartment, the subsequent arrangements Michaels had made, her own growing discomfort and disbelief toward her increased involvement. She became somewhat impassioned when she got to the part about Michaels’ idea of the two of them cohabitating, but in the end it had seemed logical. And then Daina had circumvented the whole discussion by providing her own request and how could she refuse that? Yet it had all hinged on whether Daina was comfortable with the arrangement, if she agreed to it. Once it became clear that Daina was fine with it, Emma had no more arguments. She then stated how she’d had every intention of coming clean with Daina, that she had never felt comfortable or happy with the deception or her part in it, and how she had feared it could only turn out badly if allowed to continue.

  Daina knew, as Emma did, that it very nearly had. She had listened to Emma’s narration without a single outward reaction and had suffered her only real episode of outrage and indignation when Emma related the incident at the hospital cafeteria. She couldn’t believe they had kept that from her, but she kept her fury in check, since it was really meant for Sergeant Michaels and the detectives, anyway.

  The fact was, as she heard out her story, she’d exonerated Emma already. She had been thoughtful and careful in her telling, in her choice of words, and Daina had no reason to doubt her sincerity or question her motives. True, she could have backed out of the proceedings at any time and stuck by her principles, but even Daina could see how difficult it would have been to make such a decision. That she was in as much danger now as Daina was sobering and startling. It cast a whole new light on everything. Her respect and admiration for Emma was growing exponentially. Truth be told, she knew she was a little in awe of her, but that was probably something she was better off keeping to herself.

  Emma leaned back into the sofa. “And that,” she finished with a sigh, “brings us to here.”

  Daina nodded and looked down at her hands. She was silent for a while as she considered what she’d been told and what she already knew. The letter itself, and its revelation, had thrown her into a tailspin of confusion and consternation. She’d managed to put two and two together, recalling what the detective had said regarding a certain letter and a certain third party, and she had come up with…Emma. It all made sense now, but at the time, as she held the letter in her shaking hands and read it over twice in the laundry room with disbelieving eyes, nothing made sense. She had felt confused, betrayed and angry. She had confronted Emma, not out of a sense of righteousness, but as a result of a disorienting tangle of conflicting thoughts and emotions.

  When she’d finally left her room, it was with a whole slew of questions, all jostling for first place in her attentions. In the end, that was what drove her from her room, the need for answers. She was unprepared for the sudden flood of emotion she’d experienced when she saw Emma at the counter. She suddenly knew she didn’t want to lose this woman; she wanted her in her life. In light of that epiphany, all other questions and concerns were relegated to the back burner. The one she was left with, the only one of any importance at that moment, was whether Emma felt the same. Everything seemed to hinge on the answer to that one question.

  But as she’d stood before Emma, the question, and her ability to ask it, had fled. There seemed no right way to ask it. And so, with the reckless courage that defined her nature, she had kissed her.

  Daina raised her head. “So, all of this,” she said, meeting Emma’s eyes and spreading her hands in an inclusive gesture, “is simply because you saved my life.”

  Emma appeared to consider, then nodded. “Basically, yes.”

  Daina’s eyebrows rose fractionally as she said, “Bet you’ll think twice before doing that again.”

  And Emma smiled, that slow, incredible smile of hers.

  Daina felt her insides weaken. Taking a deep breath, refocusing, she said, “Thank you for being honest, f
or telling me everything. It’s bullshit, complete and utter bullshit,” she went on, “but I know you know that. And we’re both agreed on the fact that it could have been handled better, differently, so there’s no point in ranting on here and I’m not going to.” She paused. “I do have one question, though.”

  “Sure.”

  Cocking her head slightly, Daina asked, “Whose idea was it to keep your identity from me?”

  Emma took a moment or two before replying carefully, “When I had my meeting that morning after finding the letter, I was asked if I was comfortable with the contents of the letter and my name being revealed to you. I gave them permission to disclose any information that would further the investigation. Other than that, I said I would prefer not to be brought into it. Then, when things escalated, I realized my personal feelings weren’t important, and by not telling you, I could be compromising the investigation and your safety. But because the threat had shifted to include me and there were now two of us to protect, Michaels suggested I hold off telling you anything until he could be sure of getting us both somewhere safe.”

  Emma paused a moment, then continued. “I’m sorry, I guess that doesn’t really answer your question, but…I don’t think it was anyone’s hard and fast intent to keep my identity a secret, per se. It just happened to work out that way. And I’m not making excuses for anyone, least of all myself, because I understood, and still do, that your safety comes before mine.”

  “What?” Daina stared, confused. “Okay, no, wait, what? How can you say that? That’s not true.”

  Emma blinked. “Of course it is.”

  “No, it’s not. What kind of crap is that? You’re in as much danger as I am, you said so yourself. You’re here for your protection as much as I am. I know you’re not here as a cop or a bodyguard or anything like that, I’m not stupid. So don’t give me that shit about my safety coming before yours because I’m not buying it.” As she reached the end of her little tirade she realized with mild affront that Emma was looking at her with something like amusement. “What? What’s so funny? I’m serious.”