Chapter 1: The Beginning
Daria M. Lane scanned the grocery store aisle, looking for her husband's favorite brand of soup. Sighing, she realized they were all out - yet another complication in an already overcomplicated marriage.
She slowly pushed the cart forward. How had things gotten to this point? They had seemed to be going so well...
Allowing herself a moment of reflection, she thought about her long-time relationship with Trent Lane. She had had the biggest crush on him when she moved to Lawndale in high school...something her best friend Jane Lane (who also happened to be his younger sister) had teased her about mercilessly. She had gotten to know him better, however, and he had become more of a good friend, even helping her admit to her feelings for her first real boyfriend: Tom Sloane. She winced inwardly; what a mess that had been. Tom had been Jane's boyfriend at the time, and at first she hadn't liked him at all. Eventually, though, after getting to know him better, she had not only started liking him but had also fallen for him - even though he was still going out with Jane. After the truth had come out - a catalyst had been their first kiss, completely unplanned and also while he was still Jane's boyfriend - Daria had been afraid Jane would never forgive her. Things had sorted themselves out, however, although their relationship hadn't been smooth from there, not by a long shot.
But, eventually, college had come up, and they broke up...not because of anything in particular, but his (rich) parents had insisted on sending him to some Ivy League college and neither of them wanted a long-distance relationship. They had both moved on.
After she had finished college, Daria had gotten a job writing a column for the Lawndale paper, and Trent, who had gotten a record contract as a soloist (Mystik Spiral had broken up a few years previous), asked her out and they had eventually gotten married.
The first few years were quite happy - they had purchased a small house in New York, Daria had gotten a journalism position for the Times, and Trent's album had been a hit - and they had gotten through things fairly well. But after three and a half years together, Daria had gotten pregnant. Trent had been ecstatic; he wanted to have the kid, but Daria wasn't sure she wanted to go through with the pregnancy. Finally, the point had become moot, as Daria had miscarried in her 3rd month. The baby was lost, and the doctors told her it would be unlikely that she would conceive again. Even though it wasn't her fault, Trent had seemed to blame her for it, and had become distant, until they even stopped sleeping together. She wanted to talk about it, but she had never been good at talking about her feelings, and when Trent was so uncooperative it just seemed pointless.
Pushing the cart along the aisle, Daria fought the tears that still threatened to rise at the memory. Although she hadn't realized it, part of her really had wanted that baby, and had been devastated by its loss. And now she was losing Trent...she really didn't know how she was going to handle things sometimes.
Briefly, she wondered how Tom was getting along. The last time she had seen him had been at her wedding. He had brought his wife Myrna along, a young, pretty Native American girl whom he had met in college. She wished them both nothing but happiness, but sometimes she still wondered about what would've happened between her and Tom...the road not taken...
"Daria? Is that you?"
Oh, boy. It looked as if her road not taken was coming back with a vengeance. She turned. "Tom?"
"Daria! It is you! What - How are you?"
Daria swallowed hard. At 29, Tom looked really great. A few gray hairs here and there, but mostly unchanged. In fact, the biggest change was that he now wore a suit instead of the cargo pants he had favored as a teenager. She broke into a smile, something she hadn't done much lately. "Tom, it's wonderful to see you."
Tom smiled back at her. God, he hasn't aged a day, she thought, then mentally chiding herself for thinking in cliches. It was true, though. "I've been wondering how you are," he said. "I tried emailing you, but it said the account was inactive."
"Yes, I stopped using that address about the time that --" She was about to say "I miscarried", but somehow she didn't trust herself to go on without breaking down in tears, something she rarely did and never in public. Swallowing the lump in her throat and getting her emotions under control, she said in her flat, non-emotive voice: "I'm sorry. Would you like to go somewhere and talk?"
Tom looked at her concernedly. He knew that Daria only sounded like that when she was nearly overcome by emotion, and he decided he had better get her out of the store before she broke down and embarrassed herself. "Sure. Do you want to finish your shopping?"
Daria looked at the items she had haphazardly tossed in while she was reminiscing. "Never mind, I'll just leave it. I wasn't really paying attention anyway."
Looking at the assorted goods, Tom chuckled. He had never known Daria to eat frozen lasagna ever since she moved out. "I see what you mean. Come on, I'll give you a ride." Seeing her look, he added, "Oh, don't worry, I have a decent car now. After all, the head of Sloane, Inc. should have a good set of wheels, hm?"
Daria smiled again and followed him out of the store. As they got into his car, she felt she should say something, so she made an attempt at small talk. "So...how's Myrna doing?"
A flicker of emotion crossed Tom's face before he pushed it away. "Divorced. I heard she's remarried, though I haven't seen her since the court trial about a year and a half ago."
Daria had never been good at sympathising, but she truly felt sorry for Tom -- he had seemed happy with his marriage. "Oh. I'm sorry to hear it."
Tom shook his head. "Doesn't matter. It was probably for the best anyway. She was sort of my trophy the way I was hers. It just got to the point where we couldn't remember why we married each other...sorry, I know that sounds cliched, but it's true."
Having accused herself of the same offense earlier, Daria didn't mind. "That's all right. So, where are we headed?"
"My place okay? It's a mess right now, I just moved, but I have food."
"Sounds good." Daria briefly wondered what Trent would think, but then decided it didn't matter -- he would probably be working late anyway.
When they got to Tom's apartment, Daria sat on the floor, leaning her back against an unpacked box. "Nice place."
Tom went into the kitchen to make some food. "It'll be better once I get things unpacked and set up."
Daria nodded. "Or you could claim that you just moved to anyone who asks until you move out."
Tom chuckled. "Yeah, but it would be hell trying to find things." A moment later Daria heard the microwave beep and Tom came into the living room carrying two bowls of chicken soup complete with goldfish crackers. She smiled a bit -- once, when she was having problems, he had offered to bring her this very meal. She inhaled the scent of the soup, letting it calm her. Carefully, she took a bite.
"So, now, tell me please...what's wrong?" Tom looked at her questioningly.
Not really knowing where to start, Daria looked down into her soup, watching the crackers float around. Finally, she opened her mouth and the entire story came tumbling out -- the pregnancy, her and Trent's differing feelings, the miscarriage, Trent's coldness towards her since, how she wasn't sure Trent would ever forgive her. When she was finished, she stared down into her soup, unable to speak for fear she would break down and start crying.
Tom was silent for a while, thinking it over. "Well, it seems to me that the question is...do you still love Trent?"
Daria shook her head. "I don't know, really. I used to, I know that, and maybe I still do, but right now I really don't know."
They were silent for a bit while she ate her soup. Finally Tom spoke. "Daria, I have to admit to something. When I was divorcing Myrna, I thought more that once that maybe things would have turned out better if we hadn't let our relationship slide. So, I want you to think about something. If things don't work out between you and Trent, well...you'll always have a place to run to here."
That did it. What was left of her emotional resolve crumbled and she broke down completely. Tears started rolling silently down her face, and Tom enfolded her in a warm hug while she sobbed into his shirt. Tom held her gently, and she felt so loved and protected and secure, that she let the tears flow and cried until her emotions were spent.
Then she kissed him.
It was almost against her will, rather like the first time they had kissed -- she suddenly felt drawn to his lips. She pulled away, gasping at her own boldness, only to utter a mental "Oh hell" and kiss him again (Why did he have to be so good-looking?!), pull off his jacket (God, he was seriously well-built!) and feel him caress her hair (Trent hadn't done that in ages!), kiss her neck, unbutton her blouse...part of her wanted to stop this before it got out of hand, but a bigger part of her wanted him -- it had been a long drought and he was here and he loved her...
~~~~~~~~
She was unsure how long they lay there, gasping and panting for breath. Finally, Tom spoke, his voice hoarse with exhaustion and contentedness.
"It's been...a long time."
She rolled over onto her side, enjoying the warmth of both his body and their afterglow. "For me too."
He looked in her eyes then. "Really?"
She nodded once, slowly. "Yeah. Trent and I...we stopped a little after my miscarriage. About a year and a half ago." She smiled her Mona Lisa smile. "I didn't even make love to myself after that...I felt undeserving, somehow."
Tom looked at her, and there was nothing but amazement in his eyes. "What a waste...but that's kind of funny. It was about a year and a half ago when Myrna and I quit too...and I haven't been with anyone since."
"Really? A handsome young rich businessman like yourself? I'm sure you had plenty of offers."
"Oh, that was never the problem, it was more...I didn't want to share myself with someone I didn't care about. Someone whom I couldn't talk with afterwards without boring myself to death."
Daria snuggled down closer to him. "Thanks for saving yourself for me."
"And you for me."
They were silent for a moment, and then Daria said, "Well, I guess the question now is, what do I do from here, now that I have totally and completely screwed my marriage, possibly beyond repair?"
Tom abruptly grabbed her hand. "Daria...maybe this isn't the best time to ask this, but I suppose I should get it out before I chicken out again...will you marry me?
"Are you serious?"
Tom coughed, somewhat nervously. "Well, yes, I am. I've been thinking about you a lot recently. I suppose it was luck that I ran into you at the grocery store. Luck, or serendipity -- do you know how many Lanes there are in New York? Anyhow, even though I didn't know how I was going to find you, I really wanted to -- I guess I wanted to see if you were, well..."
"Available?"
"Yeah."
"You are serious."
Tom took a deep breath, then let it out. "Yes. I love you, Daria. I loved you for years, I just tried to convince myself that I didn't when I married Myrna. When you were getting married and the preacher asked if anyone had any reason why he shouldn't marry you, part of me wanted to stand up and yell, 'Yes! I love her and I don't want her to marry Trent!" But I didn't, and you married him, and things worked out the way they did, and...well...here we are. I guess I'm just asking for a chance to fix a mistake that I made years ago."
Daria was silent, a single tear rolling down her cheek. Trent hadn't told her he loved her in over a year. Finally she spoke. "I love you too, Tom. But I think I love Trent too. I just don't know who I love more, or whether Trent and I have grown apart. I'll have to think about it for a while."
Tom wrapped his arms around her, inhaling the scent of her hair. "That's all I ask."
~~~~~~~
The next morning, Tom drove her home. Before she got out of the car, he leaned over and kissed her, saying, "Just think about it. Call me when you decide, or even if you just want to talk. And remember that I love you."
Daria nodded, then got out and faced her house. Steeling her resolve, she marched up the steps to what was almost certainly going to be a confrontation.
The door opened before she reached the top step. Trent stood there looking at her, not with anger or malice, but with love, and more than a little sadness. It was a look that he had not given her in a long time, but it still melted her heart, and she could not bring herself to meet his eyes.
"Hey, love."
She was surprised, he also hadn't called her "love" for a long time, and she wasn't sure exactly how to respond. "Hi."
"We need to talk."
"Yes, we do."
She went inside, hung up her coat, and sat down on the couch. Trent went into the kitchen and brought something out: an arrangement of a dozen deep purple roses, her favorite.
"Happy Anniversary."
She frowned. "But wasn't that --"
"Last night."
Daria mentally kicked herself. How could she have forgotten? Trent always did something romantic for their anniversary, and what had she been doing last night? Guilt flooded into her, and despite her resolve, she found herself near tears. "Trent-- I--"
"Listen to me for a moment, Daria. When you didn't come home last night, I realized something. I've been a real bastard to you. I haven't told you I love you in over a year at least, I spent most of my time convincing myself that I didn't love you anymore, because it hurt less that way. But the truth is, I do love you. I know what happened with the baby wasn't your fault, and I should never have let it come between us.
"But I'm afraid it may be too late to save our relationship. I don't know who you were with last night and I don't want to know, but I hope it was someone who gave you the love you deserve. I don't know if I'm worthy of you anymore." At this, he paused, and Daria recognized the look he got when he was fighting back tears of his own.
"So, this is what I've decided. I think we should seperate for a while. I've packed a few things; Jesse's agreed to let me stay with him. I think we should give it a month. After that, I'll come back, whatever we decide, I'll either move back in or -- we'll talk about divorce terms."
Daria could only nod silently, a single tear rolling down her cheek. Trent went upstairs and came down with a suitcase, which he took to the door. He kissed her lightly on the forehead, then looked into her eyes and said, "I love you, Daria. I'm sorry for screwing up as badly as I have. I hope you can find it in your heart to forgive me. If not, well, I wish you luck, and I hope you're happy with whatever happens."
Daria was silent while she watched his car pull out and drive off. She was
silent while she sat on the couch and cried. And she was silent while she
picked up the phone and dialed Tom's number.