Probability
Lydia wondered as she stared out the plane window on the flight to Phoenix. She wondered about the schools in Arizona, would her children fit in there? What if they were bullied? She wondered about the new house, she knew something had to be wrong with it. It probably had an uncomfortable bathtub and hardly any storage space. Their new neighbours would probably have a teenage son whose band practiced there every night and yappy little dog that would squeeze under the fence and mess in their yard. It was sunny in Arizona and she burned easily, so did the children, she'd probably have to spend an hour and a half every morning slathering sun lotion onto them. The garden would be dry too; she'd probably have to carry a heavy watering can around every day just to stop the overgrown mess of weeds wilting…
Logic
Lydia sighed deeply and focussed on stopping herself from crying. Logically, she knew life in Arizona weren't likely to be that bad, but she just couldn't shake the feeling that she'd be miserable there. Logically, she knew she was just upset over the loss of Greg, and that loss was making her whole life seem horrible. She hadn't felt this way since college when her boyfriend Jack had left her. Logically, she knew it was her own choice that had brought her there. Greg had wanted her to stay and she'd wanted to stay with him, yet she had left him. She turned her head and looked at the sleeping children next to her. Her son and daughter. Logically, she knew she'd made the right choice by leaving Greg. She couldn't have left her babies knowing what that separation would do to them. Knowing what it would do to her husband…
Strangeness
It felt strange to her, thinking about her husband. He was already in Phoenix, he'd been there all the time she'd known Greg. What had felt strange about the whole situation though, was that whenever she'd gone home after seeing Greg and lain down in the bed she was supposed to share with her husband, she felt horribly guilty. She'd only felt guilty when she got home, that was the strange thing. It was almost as if what she had with Greg was what was real and she was cheating on him with her husband. She'd curl up under the blankets and expect to smell Greg's soap-and-laundry-powder scent on the sheets. Strangely enough, when she'd gone grocery shopping, she'd bought the same brand of laundry soap that the people at the hospital used. She knew she'd have to switch back; the smell was making her dream of him.
Randomised
I wonder what Greg is doing now? Is he out of Mayfield? Is he back at work? Does he miss me? Did he love me? Will he even remember me twenty years from now? Will I ever see him again? If we do meet again, will he be the man I knew? Will he stay off the drugs? Will he learn to let people in? Will he mend all those bridges he burned behind him? Will he try to find me someday? Would he come after me? What if he does come after me? What would I tell my husband? What would I say to my kids? 'Sorry my darlings, Mummy had an affair with a mental patient who was in the same hospital as your auntie. Thing is he really does love me and I think I love him too…' Am I in love with Greg? What if it wasn't just 'having fun' that night we made love together in that chair? Made love without any protection…What if…?