Accusations

Accusations At our cause’s headquarters, minus Meric, Faust and myself prepare for the days canvasing. We carefully dress ourselves--we wear full suits--to ensure an extremely clean cut and professional appearance. That way, when we say we know something, it looks that way. At first, I have no idea how she knows, but she knows: “You piece of s**t,” she says. She means it. “You’re still seeing that w***e.” I’ve told her only about my initial, brief, non-intimate meal with Kate. You witnessed Faust’s equally brief remarks on the matter. How can she know? Has she followed me? I choose silence. I cringe as Faust slams shoes to the ground. “Meric was clear. And so am I. But no! You, the little a*****e, think it’s OK! Just pleased as f*****g punch to ignore the rules we all agreed to just to feel up the first curvy w***e you can manipulate.” I don’t say a thing, but I think: Enough! No! Kate D’Angelo is no w***e. Far from it. She is comfortable around me, and I am equally so around her. Nobody may remove that progress. And I don’t think it’s OK, I know it’s OK. As for Meric: in the words of my friend Kate, who I am comfortable with: F**k him! And because I think this, and don’t say a word of it, I wear a little smile in the real world. Faust, of course, observes this. “What the f**k are you smiling at, a*****e? You think this is a joke? Or have you . . . You’ve forsaken your integrity within this cause, haven’t you?” You know what? I am several steps off my “cause” ladder at the moment, so allow me to speak plainly in explaining this: She is asking, have Kate and I fucked in any form or fashion. No, we haven’t. I’ve said this already, if you picked up on it. However, Faust appears convinced and concerned. And another thing . . . (Now, finally, I speak). I say, “How, precisely, did Meric know about Kate and mine’s first meeting, anyway?” Silence strikes Faust, only for a moment. “Give me a break,” she says. “What, you thought you ‘had me’ on that little observation? F**k yes, I told him about it. Not even a hint of backsliding is permissible. So don’t you look at me, don’t you dare look at me like that.” I trusted Faust. I am betrayed.