Storms

"What is defeat? Nothing but education; nothing but the first step to something better."
-Wendell Phillips

Raindrops pelted the glass of the windshield, reminiscent of bullets in a ceaseless war. The night dragged on, the road seeming to never end. Late night drivers swerved through the lanes, none of them baring the weight of world on their shoulders as one man was. Emotions coursed through his veins, shooting raging thoughts into his mind. Thoughts of ending it all now seemed to penetrate his psyche. Surprisingly enough, he was not sad or upset. He was just insulted, disgusted, and exhausted. His knuckles turned white as he gripped the steering wheel with vengeance, his lack of anguish the one thing that kept him going.

He was feeling a type of malice his body had never experienced before, tempting him with the sweet satisfaction of revenge. The only thing stopping him was practicality. There was no point; it was all over. Eleven long years of marriage, the last three spent mainly in solitude, had come to a definite ending. For a man who had never before hated another human being, his anger was reaching an all time high.

Marriage was an oath, a promise, in sickness and in health, for richer or for poorer. Forever. He would be kidding himself if he said that their marriage had been even remotely close to perfect. Something had been wrong for a long time, and neither of them had cared enough to fix it. A barrier had formed between them, pulling them further and further apart. Two people, who used to share the same interests and hobbies, were no longer able to carry on a conversation with each other. They even lacked the will to fight. They had let their marriage become vaguely pathetic, but still, he had kept his promise. He had never gone against her or purposely hurt her. He had been her husband, whether either liked it or not.

A car veered into his lane, causing him to swerve and slam his horn, a reaction he never would have had before. His normally calm and laid-back demeanor would have caused him to get out of the way, speed up a little, and continue on with his day. But tonight, he was too angry and too resentful. Right now, he didn't like anything. For the first time in his life he thought he might actually hate the world, himself included.

The gated-community, private pool, groomed golf course, manicured life must have been what he once wanted. At some point in his life, he was sure that he had wanted to be a well-established doctor with the perfect house, perfect wife, and perfect life. He must have. Because if he hadn't, then he would have accomplished absolutely nothing, since that was exactly where he found himself now. There were blooming gardens that accentuated the luscious grass and the stone and iron gate, water-fountains in the center of the many lakes, effectively making his home the one place he hated the most at this moment. It was the life that Addison had wanted, and he'd done everything in his power to give it to her, even when he had stopped wanting it.

What had started off as fulfilling her dreams, somewhere a long the way had veered off track. If she had the amazing wardrobe, the perfect hairdo, the country club membership, and the perfect friends to go along, then she could leave him alone when it came to his hours working and the many times he was detached, even at home. He never realized it before, but paying her off was exactly what he'd been doing. Even if he had been a bad husband, it didn't excuse her actions. She had committed a sin, a commandment broken, and he knew nothing she could do would change that in his eyes.

He never broke his promise. Never. He had taken care of her, given her everything she wanted, and never looked at another woman. Adultery. The word left a bad taste in his mouth and sent visions though his head that he knew would haunt his dreams. He couldn't believe there had been another man in his bed. His mind wanted to completely reject the thought, the impossibility of it almost hilarious. Even though he had suspected once or twice, he had given her the benefit of the doubt because he thought vows meant more to her. He thought she was a woman of morals. It was nearly mortifying how wrong he was. She had dejected their marriage as something completely meaningless. She had only half-heartedly begged him to stay, more because it was the right thing to do than her actually possessing a desire for his company.

Half of his closet had been haphazardly dropped into the back of his Mercedes, along with a few other things like his laptop and some files he knew he needed for work tomorrow. Everything else, he left. None of it mattered to him. It all belonged to a man that he despised, a man that he no loner knew. Something inside of him had snapped, cutting the last string that held him to that superficial life.

The anger he was feeling was fearfully destructive, sending ideas of burning down his house through his mind, hoping to destroy all of the memories and forgotten dreams. Knowing it was pointless, his other option was to drink himself to death, or at least into a stupor, effectively postponing the torment that he knew would eventually hit him. Despite the appeal of both options, he finally saw a sign for a diner, feeling hungry and knowing he would need some coffee before he could drive anymore.

Taking the first exit he saw, he found himself on a fairly lit four-lane road. There was a hospital to his left, one he'd done consults at from time to time. There were various buildings to his right, shopping centers and offices. His eyes scanned the place carefully until neon lights caught his eyes. He turned off his car and pulled out the keys before he dropped his head into the headrest. Sitting there, he let himself breathe. He needed to breathe. All of these emotions were choking him, pulling him down into deep, dark water and he couldn't pull himself up. He was suffocating and drowning at the same time and he couldn't stop it.

Finally getting out of the car, the rain immediately hit him, persuading him to hurry into the small diner. It didn't seem too promising, but this was the only thing open and he wasn't in a place to be particular. Stumbling into the diner, he pulled off his soaked jacket, while sitting down at the bar. He put his jacket on the empty stool next to him and grabbed one of the small menus propped up between the plastic ketchup and mustard containers.

There was rustling in the kitchen when a middle aged Hispanic woman walked out, a wet rag in her hand. She was dressed in what he presumed was an outdated uniform, complete with faded colors and a starchy apron. Her dark curly hair was falling out of its bun in a few places around her face, obviously from the work of a long day. She gave him a tight-lipped smile, one that had probably been well practiced over the years for her late night customers.

She placed the damp cloth down on the counter behind the bar and looked up at him, "Can I get you anything?" she asked politely, a hint of a Spanish accent in her voice. Her exhaustion was evident in eyes that didn't exactly look at him, but past him.

His jaw tightened as he glanced at the stained menu, less than impressed with the food options. Gently placing down the laminated piece of paper, he looked up at the woman, "How about some coffee?"

"I'm assuming you don't want decaf?" she asked over her shoulder as she dragged her feet across the floor over to the coffee machine.

Derek nodded before adding a simple agreement, his mind not really focused on the waitress at all. Honestly, he wished he could focus on anything other than the miserable night he'd experienced, but it didn't seem like that was going to happen. The scenes stayed on loop in his head, almost in mockery of him and the foundation of his life. It felt like it had all tumbled down. Everything had been waiting, the dirt had been loosened over time, but this was the landslide, and frankly, it hurt like hell.

The bottom of the off-white ceramic mug clashed with the brown counter in front of him, the hot coffee splashing and almost falling over the edge as the steam rose to meet his face. "Your lucky," the waitress said, the irony of her statement making him chuckle inwardly. "I just made a new pot for myself, so it's fresh."

Derek picked up the cup and brought it to his lips; the bitter taste of the black coffee flowed down his throat and through his body. The warmth was oddly comforting, but it did nothing to take away any of his pain. "Thanks," he responded in a monotone, warn out voice. He knew he looked like a disaster, but it didn't faze him too much since he felt like it as well.

"You look like you're searching for something," she observed before turning away from him and picking up her rag. She ran it over the counter in front of her, cleaning up from the day.

He placed the mug back down, not overly satisfied with its taste. Her comment slightly peaked his interests and turned his attention to her, "What makes you say that?"

Dropping the rag, she wiped her hands on her apron before looking up at him. She placed her hands on the counter, holding herself up in front of him. "You don't look like the kind of guy who usually sits in diners late at night. It might have something to do with the Mercedes and the wedding ring, though."

Her statement was innocent enough, but it sent another wave of anger through his body. His eyes fell down to his left hand for a moment. His fist tightened and the ring seemed to be magnified. Placing his wrist on his lap, he looked back up at the waitress who seemed to have realized she had hit a nerve.

The bell over the door rang as it opened, allowing the fresh scent of the storm's rain to enter before it shut. Emory looked behind him while the waitress went back into the kitchen without another word. A woman walked in, pulling off her jacket as he had. She didn't acknowledge him at all, only walked past him and took her own seat about four stools over.

Walking back in from the kitchen, the waitress had a piece of pie in her hand. She placed it before the woman and smiled at her. "How was work?" she asked, leaning on the counter as though these two women had been friends for years. Maybe they had.

The woman groaned as she ran her hand through her tangled and damp hair. She picked up the fork on the plate with her right hand before stabbing it into the end of the pie. "Horrible. I swear, if people would just be honest about their symptoms and what they've done to themselves, my job would be so much easier and less stressful. Not to mention, I'd receive a whole lot less yelling from my resident."

"Life is definitely not about being easy or stress-less," the waitress mused.

The woman shoved her piece of pie in her mouth bitterly, her frustration apparent. As she pulled the fork away from her lips, the taste set in and her body seemed to relax. "Rosa, this gets better every time I have it."

"I'm sure it does," Rosa answered sarcastically before looking over at Derek, catching him watching them. "Can I get you anything to eat?"

The younger woman glanced across the bar as she cut her fork into the pie again, this time with a little less vengeance. He caught her green eyes almost instantly, surprised by their color. They seemed definite, as if she was a force to be reckoned with. They had caught him off guard, and his stare seemed to have surprised her as well. She turned away, letting her light brown hair fall down to cover her face perfectly.

"The pie looks appetizing," he finally managed to say. The woman subtly glanced at him again, turning away when she met his eyes. She felt her cheeks blush at the intensity of his stare, but she prayed that he didn't notice.

Rosa left them alone as she walked back into the kitchen. Derek didn't turn away from her, surprising them both. Earlier that day, he'd been a married man with vows. There were things that stopped him from looking at other women. His life had been on the fast track; everything had been rushing by in a blur. Tonight, he'd paused. Pausing had let him analyze things in his life. He'd been rushing too much to ever notice a woman, no matter how many noticed him. Something was different now, though. He was free. He had slowed down. And miraculously, she'd captivated him almost instantly.

She finally stood up a little straighter, clearing her throat to herself as she placed the fork back down. Her eyes betrayed her again as they momentarily met his and a smile took over her face. He watched carefully, almost mesmerized by her. After taking another sip of coffee, he placed the cup down again as Rosa placed his pie in front of him. He finally looked away from the woman and towards Rosa. Smiling in appreciation, he picked up his own fork and tasted the pie. Apparently, it was all that it had been made out to be.

Looking between the two as they silently ate their pie, Rosa shook her head. She leaned against the sink and continued to watch them until they were both done. Their movements paused and even more awkwardness seemed to fill the room. Rosa cleared her throat to grab their attention before speaking, "Are you two just going to steal glances of each other all night or are you going to introduce yourselves already?"

They both laughed, letting go of some pent up energy and relieving the room of both silence and awkwardness. Derek was the first one to make a move, turning towards the woman. He reached across the bar and offered his hand, "Derek."

"Meredith," she answered, shaking his hand as she continued to laugh.

Before the night was over, a promise of return was made. Meredith left for her patients at the hospital while Derek found himself alone in a luxurious hotel room. For a married man, he'd never been so captivated by another human being. Their meetings continued and their undefined relationship grew in that small diner, Rosa the only one to bear witness of what was unfolding.

Derek spent most of his days after their initial night together placing his life back together piece by piece and avoiding the woman whom was formally labeled his wife. He began living out of a hotel, strategically located near the diner. Transferring the few material possessions he cared about proved to be easier than he first thought, considering the small number of them. His hotel room filled quickly as his mind cluttered with his thoughts of Meredith. He found it strange that his resentment towards his wife had been dulled so easily, nearly forgotten until the silence of night came upon him.

Meredith was taken back by the attraction she felt for a man she knew so little. She attempted to keep their relationship platonic, knowing she wasn't in a place to fall in love, but something eccentric and thrilling was consuming her. She blamed it on the storm that night; believing storms always bring unexpected things into your life.

I know, I know, I owe you guys soooo many updates on my other stories, but the next updates on those stories aren't that angsty, and the beginning of this was because I felt the need to write something very angsty. So, this is what I wrote. It's just a one-shot, so I should have updates on the other stories within the week or so. Sorry! I know school is over, but I work six days a week, so I haven't really had a vacation yet, but I'm working on balancing my time and including writing in it!!

Please review!