Disclaimer: I do not own anything, only my bored fantasy.
A/N: Firstly I would like to tell that my knowledge about "Time Traveler's Wife" are based ONLY on the screen version. However, I want to read a novel, because the film has touched some part of my soul, and touched deeply, I'm still under impression :) Moreover, it's my first fic in this section, so don't be too strict, please :)
I really wonder what it feels like - to have a husband like me.
Surely, many men would like to disappear from their wives, and, what is likely, not to come back for a long time. I can disappear for a long time. The difference is I simply do not need it.
I love Clare, Clare loves me, our marriage is wonderful...
...and right at the moment I start to think about it and intent to enjoy this thought, ringing is heard in my head, and I sadly look at my fingers already knowing they are dissolving in the air.
Sometimes I begin to dissolve in front of Clare's eyes, and the next travel is kept without any enthusiasm, since the upset expression of her face worsens my mood as if I have swallowed a cockroach. But mostly I move when she's not around, and when I return I find her confused and reconciling herself to our not very usual family life.
"Henry! Dinner is ready!"
Such a simple phrase, but such a lovely voice of my wife returns me to reality - it's hard to believe, but the time traveler still remembers what reality is. I'm smiling to Clare and taking the plates from her warm hands. She is smiling too. Fine, now we're gonna to prepare the table, have a good dinner (oh, finally Clare has learnt to cook something not bad!), have a little chat as we always do, and then...
Oh well. I say 'sorry' to the recently bought set of plates, as they are falling on the floor. I hope it won't take long...
***
It really hasn't taken too long - at least, I find Clare sitting on the sofa a little thoughtful, but not depressed or, what is more pleasant, furious because of my absence. To tell the truth, she's never furious about that - and it's one of the reasons why I adore my wife so much.
"I'm sorry, Clare, it has happened again..."
Henry, why do you say it for? As if she doesn't know...
"It's okay. But you'd better hurry - spaghetti has almost got cold." She says with a little portion of tiredness on her smiling lips.
I guess it's tireful - to have a husband like me. Nevertheless, even this type of a husband can expect to get almost hot spaghetti for dinner.
"Thank you for your patience", I say unexpectedly even for myself.
"Everything's fine, hon. But spaghetti is getting colder."
For some reason I burst off laughing and kiss Clare on lips.
Now I wonder when her patience will be outspent. Let's hope there is a big reserve of it.