2019-10-06 - Stop Draggin My Heart Around

It's a rainy, gloomy fall morning, crisp and damp. Classic Pacific Northwest. At 13 Elm, the kids are at school and Stephanie's at work, but Itzhak's Vette is sleeping at the curb.

Itzhak's violin is audible from the street, blending in with the patter of rain. The song is easily recognizable: 'Ave Maria.' He's really working on it, playing a particular measure over and over again, each time trying to make it float delicately like it's meant to.

Apparently he's home.

Rebecca is surprised when she comes up the walk and hears the violin. She blinks a few times, in a pristine skirt and sweater combo for work. She was just coming to check on Iris before she headed into her day. She uses the key he gave her to open the door and calls out, "Itzhak?" Like another violin player would be in here.

Itzhak jumps, startled, when the key turns in the lock. He whips around, violin in one hand, pointing the bow defensively at the door like it's a magic wand--but who else would it be? Who else did you give a key to, Itzil? Of course it's Rebecca.

"Yeah, uh, hi." He waves the bow at her a little sheepishly. He's not sure how he needs to feel. Probably he should have texted. He's happy to see her...he thinks? It felt weird that she just opened the door like they live together (which they DON'T, okay?). He's dressed, though lightly, in loose cotton pants and a long sleeved henley pushed up to the elbows. His long feet are bare. "Hi, you look great." That's ...impulsive, but sincere.

Rebecca blinks at the reaction, and her brow furrows a bit. Why is he pointing that damn thing at her like a weapon? "Hi. I didn't know you were out of the hospital." Because he didn't let her know. She frowns at that. "I just came to check on Iris for you. Lemondrop is doing well." She folds her arms over her chest defensively. This is awkward. And Gohl's rage is poking at her repeatedly. She's fought him off for a long time now, but in this moment she's so off balance, he might find an opening.

Oh, so awkward. Itzhak looks down, taps the bow against his leg. "They let me out but the doctor said I can't go to work." His body language has gone all stilted and stiff. "Thanks. For checking on my girls. I don't have to feed Lemka for another couple of weeks..." oh God, the awkward. What should he say? He doesn't know. Only the inexorable sense that he's fucked up is filling his brain.

Rebecca just stands there, looking at him for a long time. "Well then. I guess it's good I didn't drop in when your girlfriend was here. Funny you didn't ask her to take care of things for you while you were laid up." Uh oh.

Itzhak's eyebrows go up, then back down, scowling. "What the fuck is that supposed to mean?" He sets his bow and violin down, sensing danger.

"Isn't taking care of your pets while you're sick something people who are dating do for each other?" Rebecca snaps back, acid in her tone. Her pale eyes flash defiantly. Gohl has his hooks into her now. She's been running herself ragged, as one of the only people not down with that flu. He found his way in.

Itzhak groans, raking both hands through his hair. "Why you giving me a ration of shit, Bex? Literally everyone else I know is sick as hell. What did you want me to do? You tell me!"

"If I'm doing all the work of a fucking girlfriend, Itzhak, maybe it'd be nice to get a call to let me know you got out of the fucking hospital!" Rebecca yells angrily. "Serves me right! I shouldn't have come to visit you! You need to stop acting like we're dating! Cooking for me and holding my hand and protecting me from the bad guys!" She balls her fists, tears of anger leaping to her eyes. "I AM NOT YOUR GIRLFRIEND!"

So indignant he can barely get the words out, Itzhak sputters, "ME, acting like we're dating?! YOU'RE the one asked me to protect you!" He flips his hands out at Bex, palms up, tone ratcheting up in aggravated disbelief. "You want me to just, just fuck you and smack you around and then what? Then just leave? Then just--just not give a shit? That's messed UP! Maybe other guys--"

--wait. Wait wait wait. Bex isn't acting like herself. Like. REALLY not like herself. Itzhak screeches to a mental halt, eyebrows popping up.

"Wait," he says, making an air-patting 'stop' gesture. "Wait, wait, Bex. Bex, are you okay?"

"NO I AM NOT OK! I AM SCARED AND I AM ANGRY AND I AM AFRAID OF YOU AND ME AND WHAT THIS MIGHT BE!" Rebecca screams it at him, before she lunges forward to try and hit him in the chest with her fists. She's not a fighter, no matter how angry Gohl makes her, she still feels helpless.

He doesn't expect that. Itzhak doesn't expect it so much that Bex actually lands one on him, smacking his solar plexus real good. That hurts!

"Ow! Jesus!" Itzhak grabs her wrists, hard, bruising hard. "Knock that shit off! Goddammit!"

"WHY?" Rebecca shouts back. "Why should I? I'm the hole you stick your dick in and that's it, right? That's all it's ever going to be! I'm just a dirty little secret! The freak you come see when you need an itch scratched. But I'm not her. I'll never be her!" She struggles in his grasp, still wanting to just HURT him somehow.

This is a very bad time to find that kind of talk titillating. The talk, and the way she's fighting him. Oh no. Itzhak clenches his teeth, grimacing awfully. This isn't play time, penis, this is 'Bex is legit losing her shit' time.

And he's genuinely scared that her next move is going to be to knee him. His junk has had enough of that lately.

He swivels neatly to shove her face-down on the couch. Pinning her wrist to the small of her back, he leans the rest of his weight into her to hold her down. Now she can't launch any bony parts into his crotch.

"Shut. Up." He growls at her. "You're freaking out. Calm. The fuck. DOWN."

Rebecca growls and bucks under him, but she has no leverage in this position. "Freaking out like the freak I am! I didn't want to fucking care, I just wanted to fuck, and you made me care you ASSHOLE!"

Itzhak can't help it; he snorts, laughs. Tries not to do any untoward grinding, which is difficult. This is hot. It's messed up to find it hot, but well, Bex isn't the only freak in the room.

"Yeah. I'm an asshole. Cooking breakfast for you and everything. Get it all out, tell me why else I'm an asshole. Holding hands? Yeah that's a real dick move."

Rebecca is crying angry tears now as she struggles beneath him. "I wasn't supposed to love you," she chokes out in a fiery sob. "I hate you for making me love you!" She's going to feel mortified by this when Gohl is gone. Mortified.

There's so much in those few words that Itzhak doesn't understand. Now is probably not a great time to try. He should probably pretend she didn't say them. She's not rational.

However, he feels a nice surge of loathing for Rebecca's ex. That guy he'd love to punch.

He kisses the back of her head, on her sleek blonde hair. A little less sleek with all the goings-on. "It's okay, baby. You cry. Let it out."

It's likely not the outcome Gohl was hoping for, hoping Rebecca and Itzhak would wind up killing one another. But in the lack of one outcome, he still has another to push for. That feeling of worthlessness, of despair, of there being no point to her existence. She isn't worth his love. She isn't worth his time and effort. She will never be the girl he chooses. She will always be the other one, always. She weeps, slowly losing the strength the anger had given her.

The hopeless weeping has the side benefit of being a real boner kill. Itzhak's a little relieved.

He lets his weight off her, sits and gathers her into his arms and rocks her, hushing her softly in Yiddish. Uselessly he tries to neaten her hair, stroking it back from her face. She's a mess.

"Shluf, shluf, meyn feygeleh." Itzhak uses his shirt, lacking better options, to dry Bex's tears. "It's okay. Everything's gonna be okay. You can hate me, you can be mad at me. S'okay."

It's like all of the fight drains out of her, replaced with that deep despair that makes her pause passing a cemetery and just wanting to lie down and let the world continue without her. That has been the harder of Gohl's tricks to fight. Anger was never something she fell into easily. Despair though? She just lets him tend to her, staring past him, blankly, her makeup running down her face, her hair mussed, her eyes unfocused.

The despair hasn't affected Itzhak nearly so strongly as the rage. He's just like that. Bex going so blank and helpless is as equally unlike her as the anger, and makes the hair on the back of his neck stand up.

Yeah, this is her asshole ancestor's doing. He knows it.

"Hey. Look at me." He grips her chin gently to turn her face to him. "This isn't you. It's Gohl. It's the infection he put in us."

Rebecca's face is turned to him and her eyes slowly focus on him. "Maybe, in part, but it's real. It's in me. He just attaches the emotions to it. I do love you. I don't want to, but I do. I'm so sorry. We can't do this anymore."

And maybe she's right, because Itzhak's face flinches. He tries not to react, but he does. That hurt. Out of everything, that's the only way she's really hurt him this morning.

He swallows. "Okay." Easing her out of his lap, he stands up, turns away, and rubs his traitorous too-reactive face. "Okay. If that's the way you want it."

"It's not what you want from me, I know that, I understand. I'm sorry." Rebecca gets up slowly, smoothing out her clothing, trying to regain some semblance of control after clearly losing every last bit of it all over him.

Itzhak shrugs. He's keeping his face turned away, because he knows he's flushing miserably and his expression is crumpling, about to cry. Stupid emotions. Stupid dick. Stupid everything.

They're not even breaking up because there's nothing to break up. Right? So why does it hurt so bad?

"I don't..." he trails off, shakes his head. "It don't matter. Fine. That's how you want it. Better leave the key."

Rebecca brokenly moves to set the key on a table with a shaking hand, the other grasping the necklace she wears, the one from her sister. It gives her no relief this time, just digs into her hand, a reminder of where the diamond came from, where the gold came from, and that the person who transformed it for her is dead. She whispers something that might be, "I'm sorry," and then stumbles for the door, running away from him, from everything.

He wants to stop her, grab her, tell her she's being ridiculous. That she can dump him after Gohl is out of their systems. He wants to carry her to bed and prove to her that she'd like to keep him around.

Itzhak's big hands clench into fists and he does not do any of that. Bex has had enough of men deciding they know what's best for her. He refuses to be one more of them.

Once the door closes, he opens his eyes, screams a curse and slams his fist down on the table, shattering the tabletop into splinters.

It's bad. It's really bad. He's never seen her despondent like that before. The hooks of the ghost are in deep. He might want to keep tabs on her. Just in case. But for now, she's gone.