FOTD, Vinegar 30, Pistachio 27: two and one
Title: two and one
Main Story: In the Heart
Flavors, Toppings, Extras: FOTD (connubial: of or pertaining to marriage, or the marriage state; conjugal; nuptial), vinegar 30 (at your own risk), pistachio 27 (pet peeves), malt (PFAH: Lars, Gina : she says, It's not enough to be in love ), caramel (Ivy and Gina's bit), butterscotch (most of the rest), rainbow sprinkles (all but two), pocky chain, hot fudge (Frank and Arelie), chopped nuts (the first ones for Gina and Lars). Whew.
Word Count: 1200
Rating: PG-13.
Summary: Meditations on marriage.
Notes: More paired pockies! Title from something Summer said that made a lot more sense to me than it probably should have.
1)
"Are you going to reenlist?" Melanie asks. If there's an edge in her voice, Nathan doesn't hear it.
"Yes," he says, shrugging on his uniform jacket. "It's a good job."
Queasiness rises in her throat, yet another unwelcome symptom of her pregnancy. Or maybe it's fear. "What about when I have the baby? I can't raise this kid on my own."
"You won't be alone."
"But you won't be here," she says. "You're an architect. Not even a naval architect. Why the Navy?"
"I belong there," he says, simply.
She loves him, but she can't comprehend that.
It bothers her.
"Why did you divorce Nathan?" Ben asks, out of the blue.
Melanie stops working and squints at him. "I don't know. Why do you bring it up?"
Ben shrugs. "I don't know," he says, philosophically. "I suppose I'm just trying to understand you."
She looks at him for a long moment, then asks, "You think you can?"
"I think I can try. That's what marriage is about, isn't it?"
She considers it. "Maybe that's why," she says, at last. "Nathan didn't know me. Then again, how could he? I didn't know myself."
"And there's an argument against marrying young," Ben says.
--
2)
They say marriage is built for two, but there's only room for one person in Yvonne's life, and it's not him. He could forgive her for that, perhaps, if it was their daughter. But it isn't her either. There's no forgiveness for that.
He deals with it in his own way. He spends all his time at work, with Olivia or his friends. He gives her what she wants without a fight, because it makes her go away faster.
He wonders sometimes what would have happened if he'd married 'Resa instead. But that hurts, so he never wonders for long.
Joanna isn't perfect. No one is.
They come from very different backgrounds, and that causes strife. She's so much younger than he is; it gets them sidelong looks, makes them both uncomfortable. They both have scars that won't heal fully; sometimes they both resent that.
And she's so beautiful she takes his breath away, and fits perfectly in his arms. And she always knows what to say to make him stop hurting. And he wants her always to smile, always to be happy, and he knows she feels the same. And. And. And.
It's not perfect. Except that it is.
--
3)
Frank wishes he'd known about this hysterical tendency of Rebecca's before he married her.
She's screaming, her hands shaking where she clutches her belly. He's not listening, because she's just repeating the same thing over, and over-- why didn't he tell her, why didn't he tell her. He didn't tell her because he knew she'd scream about it. Besides, what does it matter? There's a simple solution; the one his parents used.
She won't listen. She won't stop screaming long enough to talk.
It takes thirteen years for Frank to leave. But right now is when he knows he will.
Amelia understands. That's why he married her, why she makes such a good mother. She understands things like wet pants and mud on the carpet and frogs in the closet, things like having to work late and being too tired for the boys and needing a night out with the guys.
She trusts him, too. Rebecca never did, but Amelia does. He tells her what she needs to know. She accepts it.
She's a wonderful wife, a wonderful mother, the perfect woman. He loves her so much.
And if he thinks about leaving sometimes, it's nothing to do with her.
--
4)
She loved him once.
Gina knows people judge her for staying as long as she did. Even her children sometimes look at her sideways. What they don't understand, though, is that he wasn't always like this. There was a time when he was gentle, and good. There was a time when they were happy.
They judge so easily, who haven't lived her life. But she loved him once, and that memory held her to him long after she should have left. And she did leave, in the end. For her children. For herself.
Isn't that enough?
She loved him once.
"This doesn't actually feel any different," Ivy says, one day in January.
"Hmm?" Gina stirs the sauce, tastes, wrinkles her nose. "Needs more pepper."
"You're the saucemeister," Ivy says. "I mean this. Being married. It feels just like it did when we were engaged. Has anything changed?"
"We have spiffy rings now," Gina points out. "Spaghetti ready?"
Ivy glances at it, moves it off the heat. "Yeah. Seriously, Gina."
"Seriously?" she asks. "No. Nothing's changed except the label and some legal things. We're still what we always were. But that's important too."
"Okay," Ivy says, and passes her the pepper.
--
5)
She gave him everything, more than he will ever know, would have given him even more if not for the children. She hopes he knows that.
Arelie sometimes wonders, as the miles spool out behind her, if he thinks that she's betrayed him. Does it seem a greater or a lesser betrayal because they weren't married? She was his but he wasn't hers, not entirely. He never would have been.
Letting go hurts so much. Holding on would have been worse. Is this what divorce feels like?
No, she thinks, it isn't. At least she knows he loves her still.
"I had an affair with a married man," she blurts.
Dennis looks at her, mild brown eyes surprised. "You did? Huh."
He says nothing more, and Arelie, holding her breath, glares at him. "Aren't you going to say something?"
He shrugs. "I don't know what you want me to say."
"You're supposed to hate me."
He sighs. "If you're talking about before we met, I don't care."
"Yes, before we met," she says. "It's a question of morality. You have to care."
"Well, I don't," he says, and goes back to his newspaper.
Arelie lets out a breath, and smiles.
--
6)
It's fine, the first few weeks. It's nice. They don't fight, or at least no more than usual. They have sex a lot. They make each other breakfast and spend weekends in bed, argue about toilet seats and curtains. Lars almost thinks Danny's enjoying this. She certainly spends a lot of time looking at her ring, expression awestruck.
Then the fights get more frequent, the sex less so. They spend less time together. He catches her looking for the door, everywhere they go.
He's sad, when he wakes up one morning to find all her things gone.
But not surprised.
Out walking, they stop in front of a bridal shop. Danny looks at the dresses, Lars thinks a little wistfully, so he asks, "Pining?"
"No. They're just pretty."
Lars shrugs. "They're dresses. You never told me why you don't want to get married."
She shoots him an irritated look. "I've committed. Isn't that enough?"
"It's plenty. I'm curious."
She loves him, so she thinks about it. "I... need an out," she says, slowly. "I don't want to leave, but I need to tell myself I can, anytime I want. So I don't."
"That," he says, "I get."
They walk on.
Main Story: In the Heart
Flavors, Toppings, Extras: FOTD (connubial: of or pertaining to marriage, or the marriage state; conjugal; nuptial), vinegar 30 (at your own risk), pistachio 27 (pet peeves), malt (PFAH: Lars, Gina : she says, It's not enough to be in love ), caramel (Ivy and Gina's bit), butterscotch (most of the rest), rainbow sprinkles (all but two), pocky chain, hot fudge (Frank and Arelie), chopped nuts (the first ones for Gina and Lars). Whew.
Word Count: 1200
Rating: PG-13.
Summary: Meditations on marriage.
Notes: More paired pockies! Title from something Summer said that made a lot more sense to me than it probably should have.
1)
"Are you going to reenlist?" Melanie asks. If there's an edge in her voice, Nathan doesn't hear it.
"Yes," he says, shrugging on his uniform jacket. "It's a good job."
Queasiness rises in her throat, yet another unwelcome symptom of her pregnancy. Or maybe it's fear. "What about when I have the baby? I can't raise this kid on my own."
"You won't be alone."
"But you won't be here," she says. "You're an architect. Not even a naval architect. Why the Navy?"
"I belong there," he says, simply.
She loves him, but she can't comprehend that.
It bothers her.
"Why did you divorce Nathan?" Ben asks, out of the blue.
Melanie stops working and squints at him. "I don't know. Why do you bring it up?"
Ben shrugs. "I don't know," he says, philosophically. "I suppose I'm just trying to understand you."
She looks at him for a long moment, then asks, "You think you can?"
"I think I can try. That's what marriage is about, isn't it?"
She considers it. "Maybe that's why," she says, at last. "Nathan didn't know me. Then again, how could he? I didn't know myself."
"And there's an argument against marrying young," Ben says.
--
2)
They say marriage is built for two, but there's only room for one person in Yvonne's life, and it's not him. He could forgive her for that, perhaps, if it was their daughter. But it isn't her either. There's no forgiveness for that.
He deals with it in his own way. He spends all his time at work, with Olivia or his friends. He gives her what she wants without a fight, because it makes her go away faster.
He wonders sometimes what would have happened if he'd married 'Resa instead. But that hurts, so he never wonders for long.
Joanna isn't perfect. No one is.
They come from very different backgrounds, and that causes strife. She's so much younger than he is; it gets them sidelong looks, makes them both uncomfortable. They both have scars that won't heal fully; sometimes they both resent that.
And she's so beautiful she takes his breath away, and fits perfectly in his arms. And she always knows what to say to make him stop hurting. And he wants her always to smile, always to be happy, and he knows she feels the same. And. And. And.
It's not perfect. Except that it is.
--
3)
Frank wishes he'd known about this hysterical tendency of Rebecca's before he married her.
She's screaming, her hands shaking where she clutches her belly. He's not listening, because she's just repeating the same thing over, and over-- why didn't he tell her, why didn't he tell her. He didn't tell her because he knew she'd scream about it. Besides, what does it matter? There's a simple solution; the one his parents used.
She won't listen. She won't stop screaming long enough to talk.
It takes thirteen years for Frank to leave. But right now is when he knows he will.
Amelia understands. That's why he married her, why she makes such a good mother. She understands things like wet pants and mud on the carpet and frogs in the closet, things like having to work late and being too tired for the boys and needing a night out with the guys.
She trusts him, too. Rebecca never did, but Amelia does. He tells her what she needs to know. She accepts it.
She's a wonderful wife, a wonderful mother, the perfect woman. He loves her so much.
And if he thinks about leaving sometimes, it's nothing to do with her.
--
4)
She loved him once.
Gina knows people judge her for staying as long as she did. Even her children sometimes look at her sideways. What they don't understand, though, is that he wasn't always like this. There was a time when he was gentle, and good. There was a time when they were happy.
They judge so easily, who haven't lived her life. But she loved him once, and that memory held her to him long after she should have left. And she did leave, in the end. For her children. For herself.
Isn't that enough?
She loved him once.
"This doesn't actually feel any different," Ivy says, one day in January.
"Hmm?" Gina stirs the sauce, tastes, wrinkles her nose. "Needs more pepper."
"You're the saucemeister," Ivy says. "I mean this. Being married. It feels just like it did when we were engaged. Has anything changed?"
"We have spiffy rings now," Gina points out. "Spaghetti ready?"
Ivy glances at it, moves it off the heat. "Yeah. Seriously, Gina."
"Seriously?" she asks. "No. Nothing's changed except the label and some legal things. We're still what we always were. But that's important too."
"Okay," Ivy says, and passes her the pepper.
--
5)
She gave him everything, more than he will ever know, would have given him even more if not for the children. She hopes he knows that.
Arelie sometimes wonders, as the miles spool out behind her, if he thinks that she's betrayed him. Does it seem a greater or a lesser betrayal because they weren't married? She was his but he wasn't hers, not entirely. He never would have been.
Letting go hurts so much. Holding on would have been worse. Is this what divorce feels like?
No, she thinks, it isn't. At least she knows he loves her still.
"I had an affair with a married man," she blurts.
Dennis looks at her, mild brown eyes surprised. "You did? Huh."
He says nothing more, and Arelie, holding her breath, glares at him. "Aren't you going to say something?"
He shrugs. "I don't know what you want me to say."
"You're supposed to hate me."
He sighs. "If you're talking about before we met, I don't care."
"Yes, before we met," she says. "It's a question of morality. You have to care."
"Well, I don't," he says, and goes back to his newspaper.
Arelie lets out a breath, and smiles.
--
6)
It's fine, the first few weeks. It's nice. They don't fight, or at least no more than usual. They have sex a lot. They make each other breakfast and spend weekends in bed, argue about toilet seats and curtains. Lars almost thinks Danny's enjoying this. She certainly spends a lot of time looking at her ring, expression awestruck.
Then the fights get more frequent, the sex less so. They spend less time together. He catches her looking for the door, everywhere they go.
He's sad, when he wakes up one morning to find all her things gone.
But not surprised.
Out walking, they stop in front of a bridal shop. Danny looks at the dresses, Lars thinks a little wistfully, so he asks, "Pining?"
"No. They're just pretty."
Lars shrugs. "They're dresses. You never told me why you don't want to get married."
She shoots him an irritated look. "I've committed. Isn't that enough?"
"It's plenty. I'm curious."
She loves him, so she thinks about it. "I... need an out," she says, slowly. "I don't want to leave, but I need to tell myself I can, anytime I want. So I don't."
"That," he says, "I get."
They walk on.