They hadn't been okay in almost a year. The fact that he and Addison were working practically alternating shifts provided them with enough excuses to remain in this state of being. Derek would never have said it was an acceptable situation; and neither was it a life either of them shared enjoyably; it seemed to him that they were both afraid of admitting the truth. Being the one to break up a marriage, and ruin nearly a ten year-relationship was to be the 'evil' one. Family would immediately judge the one being 'dumped' and friends would take sides. And he and Addison had been together since med-school. Their lives had long since amalgamated. They shared friends, they shared family; hell, they even shared socks on occasion. The fact that they shared a bed was merely marital politics.
"Ships in the night," he had said, when he was talking to his mother on the phone. He hadn't seen his mom, or his two other sisters (other than Amelia) in months, and right now, he feels as if he has no-one to talk to about this. Hell, he could hardly walk up to his wife and tell her that he thought he should call the end of their relationship.
"We're like ships in the night. I see her at breakfast, and she kisses my cheek when she crawls into bed, usually an hour before I have to get up." He sighs, and swears he can hear his mother shake her head in the background.
"You have to do what feels right, Derek," she says, with a sigh. "I love Addison, you know that. But if you're not happy, then she mustn't be happy, either. It takes two to make a marriage work."
Derek nods against the phone, knowing that she is right. She is always right; something that used to annoy all of the Shepherd kids growing up. Now, he appreciates her wisdom. "Thanks, mom," he says, before saying his goodbyes and hanging up. He and Addison had tried everything to prolong this shell of a marriage. Children had been the forethought, and they had tried, and tried, and tried. Multiple doctors visits' later and it was deemed that the likelihood of Addison conceiving were slim to none; and he knew she shouldered that burden. He hated it, but knew, and respected her right to grieve her body's misgivings.
But there was only so much isolation he could take. If he enquired as to how Addison was, she told him that he was being annoying. If he offered her something to drink, she wasn't thirsty. If he asked her how her day was, he'd practically duck and cover in fear of her response. He spent days walking on eggshells, and as they days passed, and the months piled up on top of each other, Derek felt like a shell of himself.
He couldn't take it anymore, and, one day, while she was at work, he took himself to see his lawyer. Irreconcilable differences, he had stated on their divorce papers. Two weeks later, they landed on his desk at work, and he read through them with a heavy heart. This was the last thing he wanted. Nobody gets married, expecting to serve their best friend, and wife, with divorce papers down the line. He loved Addison. He lovesher, and he always will. But, self-preservation must come first, and Derek needs to live.
Addison is out on a fourteen hour-shift when Derek packs up his belongings. He only takes what is rightfully his; his clothes, his books, his medical journals. Little things that now seemed menial are packed into his cases, and he lifts his fathers' ballpoint pen from his briefcase. As he scrawls his name across the perforated line on the divorce papers, he almost backs out of it. Regret, and guilt fill his heart, but he shakes his head, and the black ink flows out of the pen almost as easily as the whisky had poured out of the bottle and into his glass.
Once he is packed, he calls a cab, and lifts his bags downstairs, returning upstairs once more, to lay his key on the table, besides the partly signed divorce papers; before heading away from their house.
Because a house, isn't always a home. A home is a place of love; of care, and of kindness. A place you look forward to seeing your husband or wife, and you build your family there. Lay down roots, and live. This brownstone building provided the shell for Addison, and for Derek, too; but it was as far away from a home as you could get. And as he looks out of the cab window before it drives away, a weight lifts from his shoulders, and he promises himself he will make a home somewhere he is wanted.