Quarrel

“I can never tell you what’s on my mind. Every time I do you make me feel guilty about it. As if, I should just shut the fuck up and keep my thoughts to myself. And then, when I do that…you’re still mad because you think I am keepings things from you. Can I win?” The last sentence was yelled a little, and was emphasized with Daye slamming his book on the table. Tony just stared at him blankly. A bit stunned.

“Wow. Tell me how you really feel, then.” Tony muttered drily, walking to the fridge.

“See! That! That right there! The sarcasm. Do you take me seriously or am I just some elaborate joke to you?” By this time Daye was standing up. The emotion on his face couldn’t decide if it was outraged or sad. Daye tended to have that polarity about him. He hardly ever looked like one particular thing, never sounded one particular way. His mom used to joke and tell him that no matter what he was Daye, and his emotions were night.

“No, you are not a joke. Clearly, I wouldn’t be with a joke for going on a year now.” Tony tried really hard to make his natural dryness a little bit less..well…dry. But he could never really take the sarcasm out of his voice. It always held tones that seemed deriding in some way.

“Then why is it that every time I point out something that bothers me I am met with this...this...nonchalance. And if it’s not nonchalance then it’s this victim act. Acting like you’re all hurt because I had the balls to tell you something isn’t cool.” Daye said critically. Bottling everything in had really began to take its toll on him. He tried really hard not to always come at Tony with something that he didn’t like but lately, he just couldn’t hold it in anymore.

“Look, I’m sorry that I make you feel bad. But you make me feel bad too. How would you like it if I gave you a constant reminder about how imperfect you are? I just deal with it because I have found that it’s you. And it’s YOU that I love.” Tony declared leaning against the counter.

“Don’t even do that. Just because I bring stuff to you does NOT mean I don’t love you. The reason I tell you is because I love you. If I didn’t give a rat’s ass about you then I wouldn’t care what the hell you did or didn’t do.” Said Daye in a controlled voice. He didn’t like screaming.

“Why you got to use all that profanity? Why can’t you just talk to me instead of cut me down?”

“Cut you down? Really, Tony? Okay, since cussing bothers you I won’t do it. See how easy that is? Now did I do a guilt trip on you? Or did I just take your constructive criticism in stride?” Daye questioned triumphantly, he knew this argument was his.

“That’s just it. I’m not a contestant on some reality TV show. I don’t need to be critiqued. I need to be accepted. And I don’t understand why you can’t do that. I’m going for a walk. Don’t wait up.” Daye watched as Tony headed for the door.

“A walk, babe, it’s really close to midnight. You don’t have to do all that.” Resigned, Daye flopped back in the kitchen chair.

“Yes. I do.” Tony said as he stepped out the front door leaving Daye to think about what had just occurred.

For the past week or two they’d been arguing like this off and on. And for each argument Daye had been left to wonder what had just happened when he was the one who had initially been upset. Why wasn’t he the one storming out the door in a hissy fit?

While he sat there, thinking about all this with his hands holding up his head as he looked at the tiled kitchen floor there was a loud noise. It didn’t really alarm Daye at first; there was always a noise of some sort in this neighborhood. Then he heard it again and realized it was a gun shot. He sat bolt upright and ran to the front door because he had a heard a male voice cry out in pain along with a second gun shot.