"For one human being to amor another human being: that is perhaps the most difficult task that has been entrusted to us, the ultimate task, the final test and proof, the work for which all other work is merely preparation."-Rilke
"...Forsaken por all that amor is, I will grow toward you."
- From Frantisek Halas' poem Confession
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I shouldn't be here. I can see her through the window of her home. The fireplace is on. She is comfortably lounging on her sofa leitura a novel and drinking a mug of something. It is startling to see her so relaxed and serene in her domesticity.
It was only 24 hours earlier that she was a red-faced mess ready to fight me, the world, God, but mostly herself. She knew logically that the girl could change her mind; it was an open adoption afterall. However, once the baby had cried in her arms none of that mattered.
I hate to admit it but the vision of her holding Joy was beautiful and natural. She would have been a great mother. I meant that statement when I said it that night. There are people who should never be parents: my father being on the topo, início of that list. But I always knew that if Cuddy succeeded she would be one of the most amazing mothers one would ever hope to know. Her child would be the envy of all their friends; all of them wishing their own mother's were as caring and witty as she.

God, Cuddy's so immersed in that novel. I guess she needs a distraction from reality right now. All dia she tried to talk to me about that kiss. I shrugged off the conversation each time. Do I even have a right to bring it up now? Who am I to break her peaceful escape? I'm always shaking up her life and mostly in the worst way. Somehow she always forgives me. I am grateful for that. She'll never know how grateful...
Wait. She's putting a book mark in her novel. Now she's setting the book on the coffee table. She's drinking from her mug some more. She sees me now. Her eyes softer than I would have expected. She hates it when I just show up at her window. She walks toward me and gestures for me to meet her at the door.

"House?"
"I wouldn't have taken advantage. I've never been that guy." I say faster than I mean to.
"I know...I just meant that we were both very desperate in that moment and..."
"I know." I just need you to know who I am.
"Is that all you wanted to say?"
"There's always China."
"What? House, I don't know what you mean..."
"Chinese baby girls are thrown out like yesterday's trash or worse nearly killed por pins shoved through their skulls..."
"Get to the point."
"Adopt a baby from China. You want a baby. They don't want those babies. It's a win win situation. There won't be any segundo thoughts on the adoption."
She closes her eyes and sighs.
"I know you're trying to help me in your own weird way, but I can't even think about another adoption right now. I may look like I have it together but my coração is..."
"Broken."
"Yeah." she says in a barely audible voice.
"Can I come in?"
"...For a little while."
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He looks so nervous sitting on my recliner. He has been nervous all dia long. Of course, I wanted to talk about the kiss head on, and he wanted to avoid the adult conversation at all costs. It meant too much. When things become that significant he reacts this way. He was this way with Stacy and this way with Wilson after Amber's death. He pretends to be a callous bunda because he really is one of the most emotionally affected people I have ever known.
I saw the look on his face in the baby shop. He was hurt beyond words that I had done this without him. He'll never tell me that he felt like crying, but the quick cover of the sunglasses told me the truth. I hate to see him in pain like that especially when I'm the cause...
"Cuddy? Are you alright? You've just been standing there spacing out."
I walk to sit on the coffee mesa, tabela in front of him. I need to be close when I say this.
"Thank you for being with me last night. I needed to know I wasn't alone...I was praying for someone to knock on my door...and then you knocked. You were not who I would have expected, but you were mais than enough."
He's speechless again. It is a rare sight. But he is slowly recovering. I can see him formulating some kind of adequate response.
"I will knock for as long as my liver allows," he says in a soft voice betraying his sarcastic words.
I don't know why I need to do this but it feels right. I reach for his hand and brush my face against it. I hear a hitch in his breath, but he doesn't withdraw his hand. I turn the palm over and kiss it. I stand up still holding his hand within mine. He looks at me with eyes full of questions, but he knows the answers.
"You want me to stay."
I nod.
He stands and draws closer to me until our noses touch.
"This isn't about pain, you know."
I kiss him tenderly.
"No,this isn't about pain."
His arms are around me now, and his chin rests on topo, início of my head. He has always been so much taller. It's been intimidating at times, but it isn't right now.
He pulls back to look at me. He wants to make sure that I'm sure.
"I'm sure."
He lightly traces my lower lip.
"I'm sure too."