The wind had died down, a light fog settling over treetops as Wesley closed the door behind us. Following Mark to his car, I felt a sense of resolution and validation because of what had been said, and yet I was more unsettled than before.
I waited to speak until we left the subdivision. "What's happening to Pat Harvey is outrageous. She loses her daughter, now her career and reputation are being destroyed."
"Benton's had nothing to do with leaks to the press, any sort of 'setup,' as you put it."
Mark kept his eyes on the dark, narrow road.
"It's not a matter of how I put it, Mark."
"I'm just referring to what you said," he replied.
"You know what's going on. Don't act naive with me."
"Benton's done everything he can for her, but she's got a vendetta against the Justice Department. To her, Benton's just another federal agent out to get her."
"If I were her, I might feel the same way."
"Knowing you, you probably would."
"And what's that supposed to mean?" I asked, as my anger, which went far deeper than Pat Harvey, surfaced.
"It doesn't mean a thing."
Minutes passed in silence as the tension grew. I did not recognize the road we were on, but I knew our time together was nearing an end. Then he turned into the store's parking lot and pulled up next to my car.
"1'm sorry we had to see each other under these circumstances," he said quietly.
I did not reply, and he added, "But I'm not sorry to see you, not song it happened."
"Good night, Mark."
I started to get out of the car.
"Don't, Kay."
He put his hand on my arm.
I sat still. "What do you want?"
"To talk to you. Please."
"If you're so interested in talking to me, then why haven't you gotten around to it before now?"
I replied with emotion, pulling my arm away. "You've made no effort to say a goddam thing to me for months."
"That works both ways. I called you last fall and you never called me back."
"I knew what you were going to say, and I didn't want to hear it," I replied, and 1 could feel his anger building, too.
"Excuse me. I forgot that you have always had the uncanny ability of reading my mind."
He placed both hands on the wheel and stared straight ahead.
"You were going to announce that there was no chance of reconciliation, that it was over. And I wasn't interested in having you put into words what I already assumed."
"Think what you want."
"It has nothing to do with what I want to think!"
I hated the power he had to make me lose my temper.
"Look."
He took a deep breath. "Do you think there's any chance we can declare a truce? Forget the past?"
"Not a chance."
"Great. Thanks for being so reasonable. At least I tried."
"Tried? It's been what? Eight, nine months since you left? What the hell have you tried, Mark? I don't know what it is you're asking, but it's impossible to forget the past. It's impossible for the two of us to run into each other and pretend there was never anything between us. I refuse to act that way."
"I'm not asking that, Kay. I'm asking if we can forget the fights, the anger, what we said back then."
I really could not remember exactly what had been said or explain what had gone wrong. We fought when we weren't sure what we were fighting about until the focus became our injuries and not the differences that had caused them.
"When I called you last September," he went on with feeling, "I wasn't going to tell you there was no hope of reconciliation. In fact, when I dialed your number I knew I was running the risk of hearing you say that. And when you never called me back, I was the one who made assumptions."
"You're not serious."
"The hell I'm not."
"Well, maybe you were wise to make assumptions. After what you did."
"After what I did?" he asked, incredulous. "What about what you did?"
"The only thing I did was to get sick and tired of making concessions. You never really tried to relocate to Richmond. You didn't know what you wanted and expected me to comply, concede, uproot myself whenever you figured everything; out. No matter how much I love you, I can't give up what I am and I never asked you to give up what you are."
"Yes, you did. Even if 1 could have transferred to the field office in Richmond, that's not what I wanted."
"Good. I'm glad you pursued what you wanted."
"Kay, it's fifty-fifty You're to blame, too."
"I'm not the one who left." My eyes filled with tears, and I whispered, "Oh, shit."
Getting out a handkerchief, he gently placed it on my lap.
Dabbing my eyes, I moved closer to the door, leaning my head against the glass. I did not want to cry.
"I'm sorry," he said.
"You're being sorry doesn't change anything."
"Please don't cry."
"I will if I want," I said, ridiculously.
"I'm sorry," he said again, this time in a whisper, and I thought he was going to touch me. But he didn't. He leaned back in the seat and stared up at the roof.
"Look," he said, "if you want to know the truth, I wish you had been the one who left. Then you could have been the one who screwed up instead of me."
I did not say anything. I did not dare.
"Did you hear me?"
"I'm not sure," I said to the window.
He shifted his position. I could feel his eyes on me.
"Kay, look at me."
Reluctantly, I did.
"Why do you think I've been coming back here?" he asked in a low voice. "I'm trying to get back to Quantico, but it's tough. The timing's bad with the federal budget cuts, the economy, the Bureau's being hit hard. There are a lot of reasons."
"You're telling me you're professionally unhappy?"
"I'm telling you I made a mistake."
"I regret any professional mistakes you've made," I said.
"I'm not referring just to that, and you know it."
"Then what are you referring to?" I was determined to make him say it.
"You know what I'm referring to. Us. Nothing's been the same."
His eyes were shining in the dark. He looked almost fierce.
"Has it been for you?" he pushed.
"I think both of us have made a lot of mistakes."
"I'd like to start undoing some of them, Kay. I don't want it to end this way with us. I've felt that for along time but… well, I just didn't know how to tell you. I didn't know if you wanted to hear from me, if you were seeing someone else."
I did not admit that I had been wondering the same about him and was terrified of the answers.
He reached for me, taking my hand. This time I could not pull away.
"I've been trying to sort through what went wrong with us," he said. "All I know is I'm stubborn, you're stubborn. I wanted my way and you wanted yours. So here we are. I can't say what your life has been like since I left, but I'm willing to bet it hasn't been good."
"How arrogant of you to bet on such a thing."
He smiled. "I'm just trying to live up to your image of me. One of the last things you called me before I left was an arrogant bastard."
"Was that before or after I called you a son of a bitch?"
"Before, I believe."
"As I remember it, you called me a few rather choice names as well. And I thought you just suggested that we forget what was said back then."
"And you just said no matter how much I love you."
"I beg your pardon?"
"Love,' as in present tense. Don't try to take it back. I heard it."
He pressed my hand to his face, his lips moving over my fingers.
"I've tried to stop thinking about you. I can't."
He paused, his face close to mine. "I'm not asking you to say the same thing."