"Do you believe in God?"
This is a piece of fiction about two twenty-somethings and a fight about nothing.
“Do you believe in God?” she asked.
He looked at her tentatively. “I feel like you’re asking more.”
“Do you believe in God?” she reiterates.
“I don’t know. I don’t think so.” He brushed her hair away from her face. "Why? What’s this about, Ace?” He calls her “Ace.” She only likes it, because he say it.
“Why does it have to be about something?” She moves away from him slightly.
“Because it usually is.”
“That’s not true.”
“Alright, fine.”
She clears her throat, “Do you believe in love?”
“Ahhh, there it is.”
“What is?”
“The real question.”
“They are both real questions.”
“No, no, no. That God question was not a real question. You’re trying something here to see if I’ll say the real thing or the thing you want me to say.”
“I think you think I play word detective. I don’t. That’s not what I'm doing, Miles.”
“Well, they are games.”
“Have you ever thought maybe the one playing the games here is you.”
“Me? I’m not asking whether or not you believe in God when really you want to know something else.”
“What? How is this becoming this? I just want to know how you feel.”
“Do you want to know how I feel about love or the way I feel about you.”
She hesitates, then looks back up again. Fuck his eyes and fuck his face and fuck her feelings and fuck everything about everything it’s all fucking stupid. “Both,” she says finally.
“See. That’s it.” Fuck this game. Fuck, he should have gone out with the guys. Enough of this bullshit and fuck her eyes and the way she looks at him. He wants to smoke. What a fucking drag this has become.
“Wanting to know how you feel isn’t a game, Miles.”
“It is when it’s disguised by fake questions.”
“Maybe I wouldn’t have to hide behind questions if….” Her voice trails. She wants to cry. Crying doesn’t mean you’re weak. Fuck. Don’t fucking cry. Get it together. No, fuck this. After this, they're done, whatever the fuck this is. She doesn’t even know anymore.
He knows what she is going to say. Fuck. Please don’t cry. Fuck. He does care about her. She doesn’t get it. It’s just… different. It's not her. It's him. Well, it's her too. But it's the timing and the fact that she doesn't listen to what he's saying. “I believe in love,” he says finally. He waits a moment before asking, “Do you?”
“Do I what?” surprised he asked. She's tired. When will it get easier? Why does she feel so sad?
“Do you believe in love, Ace?”
She didn’t ask to see how he felt. She knew. Some things are just so fucking obvious and other things, like the ones you keep inside yourself, are even harder to see.
“I want to,” she said.