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Maybe that's what he thought too.

She wanted to demand, with petulant unhappiness, he hold her hand. To anchor the turbulence of her emotions even while obviously distraught with his own. She wanted the tangible reassurance that he was here, with her, and real, more than just a series of colors and sounds that's supposed to make up a person. She hated the distance, always had, but she shouldn't and so she didn't.

"Well you thought wrong," America sniffed again, finally sitting up to scrub at her face, flushed and splotchy and miserable, before giving it up as a lost cause and getting up.

The bathroom was nice, she thought vaguely, turning on the tap to wash her face with cold water. Then blow her nose. Then wash her face once more.

From the bathroom, she began, voice soft but carrying, "Thank you." A pause and then she admitted quietly, "I never thought of it like that before...and it kinda hurts to hope he was the same."

The earrings were passed over without much thought. Later, later she'd remember them and there'd be the brief pang of oh. And there would be that small flare of jealous loss, of the things others could have but she could not. And the pang that was fast which was sheer ego. But both would be overwhelmed swiftly by the hope that it meant Taym was nearly over it, that soon things would once again be okay between them.

Walking back into the bedroom she stared a moment at the nest in the bed, but chose to instead to simply grab the pillow and sit on the floor, her back against the mattress. She thought the offer over, and maybe it would be easier like this. With him no longer willing to touch her, she was halfway to alone. But maybe it'd be a bit harder, because she was halfway alone.

"My mother died when I was born. Pa loved her more than anything, and he took it real bad." There was a rote sort of apathy in her voice, an echo of the admission half a year gone, My name is America Jones and my greatest emotional weakness is my constant need to prove myself. "He wasn't ready to raise a baby himself, but he tried real hard in those first few years, and the whole family did what they could to help. He was a trucker, so they'd watch me while he was gone. And time went by, and the raising of me got harder and harder for him."

She looked up at Taym finally with a wry smile, "I look like her. You know they showed me her, in that tower? With the restaurant and that choice. It was like watching a picture that had come to life." A small laugh, "They really picked the wrong person to ask me."

Taking the popcorn bowl, she plucked out a piece and began tearing it into tiny pieces rather than attempting to eat any. "So he spent more time on the road, and I spent more time with my uncles and such, until he was only ever home a few months out of the year." Her voice softened into something more natural, emotion filtering in. "At first I tried...I tried to just replace him with my family, because they were there, and they wanted me, right? But everybody always hoped we'd fix thing between me and him, so they were...careful. About getting close, making me assume things."

She reached into the forgotten bag and grabbed out a can of root beer. Taking a sip she went on, "I tried for a long time. To be...good. To be something good to come back to. Even when I was staying elsewhere, I'd try to go down to our house at least once a month and clean it real nice. So it'd be a nice place to come home to, you know? But it didn't matter, 'cause every time he came back I'd run to him for a hug, and every single time he'd flinch. And leave a little sooner than the last time."

Swishing her drink contemplatively, she tried to explain, "He was a big man, but so damn shy. He'd try to make himself small, and just looking someone in the eye was usually too much. Quiet and hardly ever talked, and when he did it was with a stutter, looking for all the world like every word was razors in his mouth. I was...I've always been loud. And a bit wild. And you know how I am when I try, when I push and push and push until something either gives and breaks? Well I tried a long time, and maybe it just made everything all the worse for a man like that. In the end, after Prudie died, I was the thing that gave. I stopped trying to get him to...I don't know, tell me he forgave me, and that he'd stay and we'd make things right. He wasn't going to do that, and the only thing I would do if I kept on was hate myself just as much as I was afraid he did. And after that...well, after that I just got angry."

An unhappy twitch of a smile followed. "I started making plans to leave for real. I always knew there was something more out there for me, a greater purpose. And if it didn't come knocking while I was in school, then I'd leave and find it for myself. He had a lifetime of leaving me again and again, and I was gonna take it back. I was gonna be the one to leave, but it would just be once. I'd be the one to finish it."

She took another drink of soda, eyes fixed on the spectacle of Bald Mountain. "I had a week," America continue abruptly, "...after Simon recruited me. To spend time with family and tie up loose ends. They thought I was just leaving for basic, and so I had an excuse. Pa wanted to tell me something, not long after I'd agreed to come here. And maybe he was getting ready to tell me all the things I'd wanted him to, and maybe he was just going to shut down before he ever really said a thing. He did that a lot, and I...couldn't bear to give him even one last chance. I spent that last week in a hidey-hole in the woods, and the last time I saw him it was just the same old wave and flinching hug."

The girl breathed in deeply once, and then twice before admitted, "It was such a ******** relief to go. To think I'd left all the want behind me, that I'd made the question of him and me unimportant, a thing that didn't matter at all anymore. I know it hurt him, to think I'd died. And maybe some of his own relief too, but mostly I just hope it hurt, and that it never stops hurting, because i was wrong and I don't want to be ******** miserable over him all by myself after a ******** lifetime of it."

She took another breath and looked at Taym, waiting to hear that she was horrible for that, for being petty as ********. Or worse, pity. Like she was some kind of sad little victim.

She offered him a smile, gratitude was there, but also a bit vague around the edges. "Well I blame me, and that's enough, right?" It was more than enough, because it was all that mattered. America was a girl who'd decided years ago that her own feelings, her own opinion, were what ultimately mattered most, because relying on other people to think and feel the way you'd like them to would just disappoint you time and again.

So Taym's words weren't exactly unwelcome but mostly... "A lot of that I've never really said out loud before." It had always been close to the surface, but seemed a bit backward, to dwell on the past wrongs and unhappiness. To complain about them. To make them more a part of her life than they already were. But maybe it wasn't so terrible, to give this man the framework for all the other little stories she offered up so easily.

Rocking back she considered it, and continued quizzically. "I think I actually do feel a bit better." It wasn't the raw pain and exhilarating renewal of breaking herself down bit by ugliest bit and then rebuilding to someone better, someone she could love and consider worth it, worth anything. But there was a relief in it, a sort of there I said it satisfaction. There was a thank you written across her features, but this one went unspoken.

Sitting up, she shuffled on her knees to the laptop and closed the movie, bringing up another one instead. This time she didn't make him sit through it all, though, despite a certain curiosity on his opinion of space whales. instead she went straight to the Firebird Suite, and gestured for him to come closer. "It's my favourite, and I think she'll like it too."