Bit 3.3

Of course, being the actual house owner I got first choice of the rooms. So clever me chose the one right at the top, not actually thinking about what might happen if one day I got a good kicking from an Icelandic Sailor and had to struggle up the stairs on my own. I should get a lift fitted. Maybe I'll stick it through Kate's room, then claim it was a mistake by the builders and suggest she shares with me for a while. OK, that's extremely unlikely. She'd probably move in with good ol' Dr Mike instead.I should stop being so harsh to him. I mean, he's a good guy. He's friendly, he looks after people, he's managed to sort me out OK. And much as it pains me to say it, he treats Kate well, and that's the most important thing. I can't imagine what it'd be like if she was going out with a toerag like Rob. But then she wouldn't go out with Rob because he's her brother and that'd be so very wrong. Being rejected for a Doctor I can handle. For her brother? Hmmm...I think those painkillers I took made my head a bit wrong.This room has it's advantages though. I mean, stretched out on my bed here, if I lean my head right back, I can see up at the sky. It's quite a clear night tonight. Lots of stars. I really need to sort my head out. I nearly got us killed tonight because of a stupid crush. It's not a crush though. I really do love her. I can't bear to not be around her.It's not as if I'm stuck for people who like me though. I do quite well. Mary from accounts has asked me out twice in the past month, and my lame excuses aren't cutting the ice. I swear she thinks I'm gay and repressing. There's nothing wrong with her. In fact far from it, she's pretty damn gorgeous and funny.But she's not Kate. No-one's Kate. I remember when I first met her. It was like someone hit me in the face with a feather pillow. Her long red hair, with waves and undulations like the sea, her eyes...her beautiful eyes which shift in colour - sometimes they're deep brown, but sometimes they change and there's a greeny-grey hint to them. And they're so expressive, conveying os much love to her family. Her friends. Her lover. And her skin. Oh, her pale, soft skin, utterly perfect and flawless. And then she opened her perfectly shaped mouth and I fell in love with her that little bit more. Maybe it's the fact she spent most of our first meeting following her brother's lead and mercilessly tearing shreds off me - I'm a glutton for punishment, I really am - or maybe it's the fact that I succeeded in arguing with her for about four hours on the respective merits and innovations of Duke Ellington and Miles Davis. Or the fact that every minute I spent with her I wanted to last aeons, but instead seemed all too brief.Every time I met her after that I desperately tried to analyse our meetings for possibilities that she might like me even a fraction as much as I liked her. Maybe that accidental brush of my arm in the nightclub was out of a repressed desire to touch me. Maybe when she talked of how much she loved the work of Shostakovich and would love to go to a concert with me - maybe that was indicative of a desire to spend time with just me, and I ruined it by inviting our friends. Even now when she's so very annoyed with me - maybe she's acting annoyed to cover up the fact she's worried, rather than being angry for me ruining her night with Mike. It's getting to the stage where it's affecting our friendship. I thought having her to live with us would make things better. I'd grow used to her, maybe get irritated with her bad habits. But no, she has none. She's utterly ideal for me. And because of that I'm growing further apart from her. I can't spend time around her and Mike - every second it feels like someone twists a knife into my heart. And I can't spend much time alone with her because I can barely look her in the face. Two weeks ago we all went out clubbing. We were having a good laugh, and then Rob started up with his jokes about me becoming a monk because I'd been single for so long. And Kate...she was drunk, tried to hug me and said that she loved me even if no-one else did. And I shoved her away. I actually pushed her away. Me, Mr non-violent shoved the woman I love away from me, and ran off. Like a twelve year old. I hate myself.I've not been out with anyone for three years now. I just can't. It's not right. I know now, better than ever, that she's not interested, that I am just another, better-loooking brother to her. She's been with Mike over a year now. She must be thinking of it as something serious. I'm not sure I could cope if she married him.I've often thought I should just go. Go somewhere. Anywhere. I've had my chances. The others would cope without me. As long as I've got rent coming in form the others I'm fairly independant financially. I got a pretty good job offer last year from Quebec. I could have taken that. I should have taken that. A few years away would fix me up. Everyone here would forget about me, that wouldn't be a problem. Kate would marry Mike, I'd get an invite and not appear, and that would be it. And maybe, given time, I'd forget about Kate. Find a nice Canadian girl. Politely decline any offers of visits from here until I'm no more than a vague memory, an occasional Christmas card.It'll never happen. I can never leave. I'm going to chase her around like a lost puppy, no matter how many times I get kicked. You never know though, maybe one night it'll go like it did tonight, but they'll do a better job and actually finish me off. Or kick some sense into me. Then I'll be able to stop pretending that I'm not avoiding her.