"I don't know where you are most of the time. And when I see you give interviews you're an entirely different person from what I've known you to be." Chelsea gripped her hair in both hands tightly then pulled hard enough to feel a slight twinge in her scalp.
   Reluctantly, she released her tresses and took in a deep breath. "I don't know who you are," she admitted sadly. "I don't."
   After a moment of silence she looked up at him. "How can you be so many different people, Ike?"
   Isaac felt his fingers itching and rubbed his hands lightly over the knees of his jeans. "I'm not sure exactly what you're getting at, Chels. I'm still me. So I'm a different person around certain people. I'm sure that's fairly normal considering my profession."
   Frustrated, Chelsea tossed her hands around. "Look at your place, Ike!"
   He looked around trying to see if anything was wrong. "You don't like my place?" he asked perplexed.
   "I can't even find a hint of you in here!" she shouted in annoyance. "You don't like wine, but your fridge is stocked with wine coolers. And Zima!" She spun around looking for more things that were out of place, and then pointed at his walls. "You hated most of these artists, yet now they're hanging on your walls! You can't stand Thai food yet you have the number on speed dial."
   Plopping down on the sofa again, she glared at the caramel colored material. "I don't know how I'm ever supposed to find you," she admitted softly. "Because every time I look for you, you're not there. Something else is. A mirage, but not you. Never you."
   Isaac felt his hands clench, and kept his gaze firmly on the coffee table in front of him. "I'm right here," he told her slowly. "Right where I've always been. You just haven't been looking close enough. Obviously," he added dryly as he looked at her in accusation. "You got caught up in the trappings."
   He laughed quietly but harshly, "Damn…" he murmured as he tipped his head back against the couch and closed his eyes. He laughed again, "And here I thought you would have figured it all out. Figured me out."
   "Figure what out?" Chelsea screeched. "You're not even here! How can I figure you out, when you're nowhere to be seen?"
   Opening his eyes, he fixated them on the ceiling. "Maybe you should leave, Chels," he suggested calmly.
   "That's what I came to tell you," Chelsea admitted in defeat as she stood again, this time with great care.
   "Yeah well, you never were really good at getting directly to the point," Isaac replied tiredly.
   She smiled weakly. "I know. See you around, Ike."
   Nodding slightly, Isaac raised his hand and gave a small wave and refused to watch her walk out.
   Zac saw her leaving as he came up the drive. "Hey, Chels," he called out cheerfully. "What's up?"
   Chelsea tried to smile but gave up and shook her head instead. "Ike and I broke up."
   He whistled lowly. "What happened?"
   "I gotta go, okay?" she said hurriedly as she brushed past him.
   Taking in a deep breath, Zac turned the knob and stepped into his brother's house. "Hey, Ike?" he called out as he kicked the door shut behind him.
   "In here," Isaac yelled from the living room.
   Bobbing his head, Zac walked down the little foyer and turned right. "Hey, man, what's up?" he asked before dropping his large frame into one of the armchairs.
   Isaac smiled tightly. "Chels and I broke up."
   Yeah, I know that part, Zac thought wryly. "Was there a reason?"
   "Apparently she couldn't find me in my house," Isaac answered blandly.
   Zac looked around suspiciously. "Well, it is kind of a big place, Ike."
   Lifting his head to give Zac a dirty look, Isaac elaborated, "She couldn't see myself in my possessions."
   Zac grinned. "Like in what?"
   Dropping his head back down Isaac sighed. "Like in the art work on my walls. The beverages in my refrigerator, and the numbers on my speed dial."
   "You mean the paintings from the art gallery you two went on your first date at?" Zac questioned slowly, trying to make sense of the mess.
   Isaac nodded. "Yep. And the wine her and her friends love. The couches that are the color of her eyes..."
   Zac bit his lip. "And what about your speed dial?"
   Isaac groaned. "The number to the Thai food restaurant where we first said 'I love you'," he explained, beaten.
   "Jeez, Ike," Zac breathed as he became depressed by the situation.
   Isaac nodded again. "Yep."
   They both remained silent.