Heart Cooks Brain

"It's a bad thought
On the way to god don't know
My brain's the burger and my heart's the coal
I'm trying to get my head clear
I push things out through my mouth I get refilled through my ears
I'm on my way to god don't know or even care
My brain's the weak heart and my heart's the long stairs..."
Modest Mouse, Heart Cooks Brain

I got back in the van, and I let the silence just... sit for a while. I was really glad to see Bridgitte talking to Azeeza, but just watching them... It's like I failed them both, and it feels like there's a big weight on my heart.
Then, when Gunnar said he was going to take some time off from everything, I found myself suddenly lacking the power to just keep my mouth shut. I'm pretty sure I grimaced, but only partly because of what he'd said.
"Like," I hesitated, because I wasn't sure I really wanted the answer. "Time off from everything? Time off from me? Did I ... do something?" Yeah. The first thing I did was ask if he was breaking up with me because of something I did. I've known the guy about a month, and already I've got abandonment issues. Somewhere, in the back of my head, I think the "me" that understands privacy, boundaries and common fucking sense was just yelling that I should shut up before I embarrassed us both. So smooth, Laurel.
He, thankfully, exclaimed (yes, with a !) that it wasn't me. He just thought maybe he needed some sleep. So I, trying to be helpful, mentioned the fact that there are several perfectly functional beds at my house - to which we were heading. And not even in the sleazy way.
He mentioned that he's been tired, kinda like this before. After Vegas, but that was a solid month of being thrown into the unknown. New people, new tasks, some of us meeting our parents for the first time, and fighting the roller-snake... It made sense that that might wear a person out. But, he pointed out, tonight was just like his regular job - just a few more targets and a few people helping. It shouldn't have worn him out.
It was almost painful to watch, like the fight had just gone out of him. I'm used to feeling like he's about to move a mountain, like there's this energy rolling off of him, so strong it's even hard for me to keep still. But this? This was... depressing. Scary. A little sad.
Then I tried to tell him I understood if he needed a break that badly, but it came out kinda wrong like it usually does when I open my mouth around him. I meant to say, "I really care about you so I understand if you need some time, even though just being around you makes me feel safer and because of my own obligations I don't think I can take a break with you like I'd want... provided you want me around." Instead it pretty much came out, "I love you, don't leave me." I have so much finesse. And, like I said earlier, the worst fucking timing.
So then, with a little blinking because I probably surprised him just blurting it out like that, he made it clear that he wasn't taking a break from me. Something was just wearing him out, that he didn't think it was actually him since it was right after he shot that guy - who was apparently named Tim. I surprisingly did not give a single solitary fuck what his name was.
Gunnar shifted a little in the driver's seat, and tried to give me that grin of his, that devil may care look that makes my heart skip a beat... But it didn't look right, which really was a hell of a lot more unnerving than the following realization. Because of my stupid girl brain chemistry and overabundance of estrogen and underabundance of basic reasoning faculties (and I could probably blame the adrenaline from the mission we'd just pulled off, too), I picked up on what he didn't say. Shit. How many days does it take for Laurel to mess up a really, fantastically, amazingly good thing? Um, about five, apparently.
I started stuttering in my own eloquently awkward way. "I didn't mean... I didn't want... Um, I just wanted you to know." And that was true. I wanted to tell him before we headed into the compound because I'm a little bit scared that he'll never know how grateful I am about how strong he makes me feel, like I can accomplish any damn thing I want. I'm also a little bit scared that one of us might not walk out of the next building we walk into. So, brilliantly, I just offered to drive if he was tired.
Someday I'll be more perceptive, and might avoid these types of conversations. But not today, nope. Which is why he said, "Well, it's not like I... I just..." and he looked in the rearview mirror, and that was when I remembered that we were on a long trip in a van full of mostly strangers. And here I was, laying my heart out for a live studio audience. Can you hear the sound of my face hitting my palms? Shit. "It's not like I, uh, disagree," Gunnar continued. "I just... yeah." Yeah. Oh, Awkward and Silence? I'm so glad you guys are getting along. Maybe I should book you a room. You fucking bastards.
Trying to salvage the conversation, I switched topics.
To a dead kid, because I'm that smooth. My biography will be narrated and performed by Michael Cera, and together we shall rule this world with an awkward fist.
I told Gunnar I'd found the missing kid, when I asked him to stop. I think I started whispering because I have no idea how well ghosts can hear. Gunnar said something about a weird existence, while I agonized over how young the girl was. "Gods, Gunnar," I said. "She's just a kid. Well... She was." And then, not because that switch that says 'stop talking, you're just making it worse' came on, but because my eyes got blurry and throat started burning, I just let the silence fall.
Thank the gods Jack started talking about food.