Okay, guys, let's play good news/bad news. It looks like this story is
going to be a long one. That's the bad news. The good news is that the
chapters are really short! This is more a novel sort of thing, though I
kinda keep to the pace of a television episode as best I can and try not to
go into too much descriptive stuff so that things move a little faster. I
will try to post a minimum of two chapters a week, more if my life goes
well.
Disclaimer: Spaulding, and the WaT characters do not belong to me.
The Cost by: Mariel
Chapter 1
The house was empty when he got home. Even before he noticed the note set on the kitchen table, propped up against the bowl of shiny wooden fruit he and Maria had bought in Mexico four months before Kate had been born, he'd known Maria had gone to her mother's. Kate and Hannah were there already, and his wife had said she wanted to visit for a few days before bringing the girls back on Sunday. That was three days from now.
His shoulders uncharacteristically slumped, he walked slowly across the floor and picked the note up. There was a meal for him, it said, in the refrigerator. She hoped his day had got better. She'd see him on Sunday.
He closed his eyes in disappointment. He'd hoped his phone call had changed her mind, but... He crumpled the note up slowly in his hand. He wasn't hungry. His day had not get better, and Sunday seemed an eternity away.
Opening his eyes, he stood in the middle of his wife's spotless kitchen and found himself staring at the telephone. Mindlessly, he walked towards it, dialled a number emblazoned in his memory, and waited.
She answered on the third ring.
"Did I wake you?" he asked.
"Jack, it's only seven o'clock. I was cleaning."
He knew what that meant. He paused, saying nothing.
"Jack? Are you okay?"
Her words disturbed his thoughts. "No," he answered truthfully, "I don't think so."
As he knew she would, she asked, "Can I do anything?"
"Are you busy?"
There was a pause on the other end of the line, then "Do you want to come over?"
He did. With every fibre of his being. He wasn't sure he wanted to talk, wasn't sure, even, that he was fit for company, but he didn't want to be alone, not now, not tonight, not after today...
"Yeah," he said. But there was their complicated past and present to consider, so he asked, "Are you okay with that?"
Another pause, then she replied, "I think the question is, will you be?"
Reason told him that in the long run, probably not.
"Yeah," he told her.
Yet another pause. "Jack, where are you phoning from?"
"Home."
"Oh."
"No one's here," he explained needlessly.
"I'll see you when you get here, then," she said gently. "The door'll be open.
She always left the door open for him.
"I want to change, first. Maybe shower..." he said, loosening his tie and thinking he needed to do both.
"I'll be here."
He put the receiver down. Turning slowly, he walked through the kitchen, turning the light out as he left. If he had been thinking such thoughts - if he'd been capable at that moment of thinking at all - he'd have questioned the wisdom of seeking the company of the woman he had reluctantly ended an affair with a few months before. Slowly trodding the stairs up to his bedroom, however, he was too tired and too disturbed to question where he sought solace. This week, his past mistakes had come back to haunt him.
Nothing he did could make what was happening in his life any worse.
End Chapter 1
Disclaimer: Spaulding, and the WaT characters do not belong to me.
The Cost by: Mariel
Chapter 1
The house was empty when he got home. Even before he noticed the note set on the kitchen table, propped up against the bowl of shiny wooden fruit he and Maria had bought in Mexico four months before Kate had been born, he'd known Maria had gone to her mother's. Kate and Hannah were there already, and his wife had said she wanted to visit for a few days before bringing the girls back on Sunday. That was three days from now.
His shoulders uncharacteristically slumped, he walked slowly across the floor and picked the note up. There was a meal for him, it said, in the refrigerator. She hoped his day had got better. She'd see him on Sunday.
He closed his eyes in disappointment. He'd hoped his phone call had changed her mind, but... He crumpled the note up slowly in his hand. He wasn't hungry. His day had not get better, and Sunday seemed an eternity away.
Opening his eyes, he stood in the middle of his wife's spotless kitchen and found himself staring at the telephone. Mindlessly, he walked towards it, dialled a number emblazoned in his memory, and waited.
She answered on the third ring.
"Did I wake you?" he asked.
"Jack, it's only seven o'clock. I was cleaning."
He knew what that meant. He paused, saying nothing.
"Jack? Are you okay?"
Her words disturbed his thoughts. "No," he answered truthfully, "I don't think so."
As he knew she would, she asked, "Can I do anything?"
"Are you busy?"
There was a pause on the other end of the line, then "Do you want to come over?"
He did. With every fibre of his being. He wasn't sure he wanted to talk, wasn't sure, even, that he was fit for company, but he didn't want to be alone, not now, not tonight, not after today...
"Yeah," he said. But there was their complicated past and present to consider, so he asked, "Are you okay with that?"
Another pause, then she replied, "I think the question is, will you be?"
Reason told him that in the long run, probably not.
"Yeah," he told her.
Yet another pause. "Jack, where are you phoning from?"
"Home."
"Oh."
"No one's here," he explained needlessly.
"I'll see you when you get here, then," she said gently. "The door'll be open.
She always left the door open for him.
"I want to change, first. Maybe shower..." he said, loosening his tie and thinking he needed to do both.
"I'll be here."
He put the receiver down. Turning slowly, he walked through the kitchen, turning the light out as he left. If he had been thinking such thoughts - if he'd been capable at that moment of thinking at all - he'd have questioned the wisdom of seeking the company of the woman he had reluctantly ended an affair with a few months before. Slowly trodding the stairs up to his bedroom, however, he was too tired and too disturbed to question where he sought solace. This week, his past mistakes had come back to haunt him.
Nothing he did could make what was happening in his life any worse.
End Chapter 1