The big white house with the picket fence and the immaculate lawn.
The big white house with the picket fence and the Mercedes in front of it.
The big white house with the picket fence and the lion-head door knocker.
The big white house with the picket fence and the faceless people.
The big white house with the picket fence and the faceless husband.
The big white house with the picket fence. It's yours.
"Babe!" He always uses a pet name when he's mad at you. Exclusively then. You pretend not to hear him.
"Spencer!"
You sigh and look up. "Yes?"
"Why the heck is your stuff all over the coffee table, honey?"
"Because I am working, honey." You mock. As soon as you do you can feel your stomach contract violently. Sometimes your temper brings you in trouble. But thankfully he overlooks your misstep.
"Don't you have an office for that?" Oh, no pet name.
"Well, I felt like working in the living room." You can't help it. Your mouth is just faster than your oh so smart brain.
"I wanted to watch TV here."
You decide to push a little further. Maybe you are more suicidal than you thought.
"Do you watch on the table?" You don't know where all this courage suddenly comes from. You are tempted to enjoy it. You nearly feel like yourself again.
"No, but it bothers me." You are surprised that he keeps so calm.
Oh, to hell with it. "I am bothered by a lot of things, too."
"What is that supposed to mean?!" He booms. Now there is the fury you waited the last three comebacks for.
"Nothing." You cave. You always do. Experience taught you to. Every hint of courage vanished with one simple raising of his voice.
He turns off the TV and looks at you. You swallow. He looks angry. But you can't really tell because you think he looks angry all the time.
"No, sweetheart!" Ah, the pet name again. "Let's discuss this for once. What does bother you?"
You see his fists shaking. That always was his telltale. As soon as he'd get mad, he'd start to shake. Like a little hulk. You used to find it amusing. Now, you get scared. So you back off.
"I can work in my office." You murmur and start to collect your stuff. He stays silent but you can feel his gaze on you, burning your skin. Charing your bones. You always knew he had an anger-problem but he'd never lash out on you. You used to think it was romantic. The bad boy only turning soft for you. How incredibly stupid of you.
Now you hurry out of the room. You think about calling your friends, but what should you say?
I just got into a fight with Ian about the coffee table. Now I have to work in my office. Yeah. Big deal. The girls had problems of their own, a life of their own.
Hanna was probably working or drinking. She went into marketing. The charming blonde was surprisingly passionate about her work and always boasted about the clients she wrapped around her little finger. She was especially proud when she made them buy stuff she specifically knew they needed as much as a pig aftershave. The rest of the time she made good use of her money.
Aria works as an english teacher in Philly. Ezra and her got married a few months after high school. You all just wait for her to pop out the first kid. They are probably watching one of them lame french movies and discussing Shakespeare.
What Emily does is not really easy to explain, honestly you don't exactly know. You think it might sound something like "main assistant chief controlling analyst" or something equally important. You never thought that Emily would be the one making all the money. But life goes funny ways. She was really happy, too. She met a girl in college who she's still head over heals for. Shane. She reminds you a lot of Maya. Fun, extroverted, doesn't take most things very seriously. You smile at this. They really complemented each other well. That meant at the moment Emily was either working or fucking.
You know the other girl's lives had their down-sides, too. They all had their little packages to bear.
You know you can't really complain. You and Ian make a good salary. Your lawyer job pays quite the dinero. Your first paycheck made Ian go nuts. It was more than 4 times his wage. You still have the check. It reminds you that he is just a hockey coach and you are one of the best payed attorneys in Boston. You can rip others apart with just your words. You are ambitious, tough, relentless. You don't take no for an answer and you take no shit. You always thrive higher and higher. Push yourself to the edge. You are proud and self-confident. At least you are good at pretending.
You know that the desperate need to proof yourself comes from a deep-seated self-consciousness telling you, you are not good enough. Thank you, Dr. Phil. Maybe that's why you are still with Ian. After everything what happened. After everything he said. After everything he did. Why are you still with him? You ask yourself that everyday. And while you look for that answer you keep standing there, firmly rooted next to your husband. The man who broke you. Time and time again. And then picked you up and glued you back together. That's what you love him for.
A/N: Hey guys. This is one of my first stories. I plan on updating every week. Of course the more motivated I am the faster the updates will come *shamelessly blackmailing for reviews* Please let me know what you think. I will pour virtual loveballs over every reviewer. -P.Z.