TW: Swearing

December 25th 1985, 12:06 am, 5 hours earlier

“I need some air, come with me,” I said, going onto Sean's veranda and pulling myself onto the roof of the apartment complex. I was sitting on the edge, feet dangling and my head reeling. Robin joined me up on the roof.

“What was that?” I heard my voice come from above me, like it wasn’t me speaking. I was staring blankly at the passing cars below me.

“I’m sorry. I don’t know what to do,” she whispered, she was crying now too. She brushed my hand with her fingers. She continued, “I think you’re my person, Marisol. But it's so hard, it’s so hard to do what we’re trying to do.”

“I know, I know,” I said, sniffling. She got up, offering me a hand. I took it and pulled myself up.

“I wish it wasn’t so much work. I’m trying, I really am. I think it’s just too hard,” she covered her face, sobbing.

“I’m trying too, Robin.” I held her hand. I looked out at the stars, and realized I’d rather be looking at her. “We can make this work. I know we can. We’ll move out, find a place. What do you need me to do?”

“We don’t have any money, and we don’t have a car.” She was raising her voice at me.

“We’ll figure it out Robin. We’ll make something work,” I yelled. She softened.

“No. I’m sorry. We can’t, Marisol,” she said, still crying and wiping her nose, straining to keep her voice even.

“It’ll be ok. I promise.” I went in to kiss her. She shoved me away.

“Mari, I can’t,” She cried.

“Then fuck you!” I screamed.