Disclaimer: I don't own AMC's Fear the Walking Dead. Everything belongs to whoever owns them, my wishful thinking aside.
Authors Note #1: Spoilers up to 1x03: "The Dog." This particular fic is meant to show Liza's thoughts on her and Travis' divorce during the episode "The Dog."
Warnings: Contains: adult language, angst, drama, touches on issues of marital problems/divorce/broken home.
The torture of small talk (with someone who used to love you)
"Look, I don't want to cause problems. Madison, I know we aren't friends. I am saying this to you as a mother. We should support each other, you and me. The kids need it. They need reassuring right now and-"
"I need something from you. That woman outside, that's Susan. She watched my kids when I went to work. Took care of me after my husband died."
"Sounds like a good friend."
"She was. And if ever I end up like her, I need you to take care of it. Don't make Travis do it. It would break him."
She didn't regret the divorce.
At least not in the way everyone figured she would.
Figured she should.
People still talked about it. Her family. His. The neighbours. Chris' friends – even their parents. Wondering how she could let someone like Travis go. How she could stand to hear his voice on the other end of the telephone and not want to die a little inside when he said goodbye. How she could be fine with it when Travis eventually moved on and Madison's name – Madison's family – started feeling a whole lot like an extension of her own. Like people she kept up with, but forced at an arm's length at the same time.
It was a weird place to be in. To be a part of someone's life - someone you'd kissed and loved and grown older with – but to be an outsider at the same time.
The ex-wife.
The replaced.
God, how she hated the baggage.
Sometimes she saw him, how he used to be, off in the peripheral of her mind's eye. She remembered the fun they used to have. The day they'd met. The day he'd proposed. His quiet, soft way of speaking. How gorgeous he looked when he had his sleeves rolled up and was elbows deep in greasy old truck parts, flashing her that smile he always did when she demanded he strip before setting foot into the house. How he read her corny poetry as she cooked dinner and could launch off on an hour long diatribe about how much he hated red wine on a moment's notice. How he'd taken to spending time in the nursery, double checking everything every night when her due date had come and gone and he watched her like a hawk. Giving her foot rubs and gleefully arguing about baby names as he shot down almost every single one before pausing when Chris' left her lips. Watching him unabashedly, tears streaming down her cheeks as the name resonated and buried it'self deep.
It was strange how someone could be yours for so long, until they suddenly just weren't anymore. Until it was another person they are singing along to the radio with. Another woman who was turning back their sheets at night and slipping into his arms. Another woman he was putting first. Another family. Another surrogate son – daughter.
It wasn't about jealousy.
For some people it would be, but not for her.
It was more about the hole he'd left.
And how she hadn't found anyone who'd even come close to filling it.
And honestly? That was the part that scared her to death.
A/N: Thank you for reading, please let me know what you think. – This story is now complete.