Author's Note: This is the result of a stubborn plot bunny that does not fit within the confines of my current Philly story. Hope you enjoy!
A smile crept across her face as she watched them, their joy almost contagious. Phyllis leaned back on the bench, shielding her eyes from the bright sun. The woman was, she'd guess, in her late twenties-the man the same, perhaps a few years older. The thin gold band on her hand sparkled in the sunlight.
Perhaps he'd been away on business for a while, maybe he was in the military, or maybe they had argued and respective stubborn streaks and pride had kept them apart. Whatever the reason, it was clearly behind them now. The woman still stood, her arms wrapped tight around her husband's neck, her face buried in the curve of his shoulder.
Minutes passed before the two separated, walking hand in hand out of the park.
Phyllis breathed in, her throat tighter than she expected, her eyes stinging with tears. She tried to envision herself there. She struggled to imagine running into Jack's arms, tried conjuring a scenario that would fill her with so much joy and emotion. Just this morning he'd left on a business trip that would take him out of town for a week. It had taken effort to even feign dread at the separation. When had it all changed? When had she lost that love and passion?
Another image...this one of a different man. This time the scenario didn't seem so difficult to imagine. Being away from Billy these past few weeks had been torture. It was as if she was being drained-as if her energy and spirit were literally being siphoned from her body.
More than once Jack had questioned her melancholy mood, her pale complexion, her lack of interest in anything-especially him. Since then she'd been more careful, being sure to plaster on a smile. It was exhausting.
She didn't want to smile. The only thing she wanted was Billy.
"Phyllis?"
It sounded so real-as if he was right there right in front of her.
"Phyllis? You ok?" He brushed his hand lightly across her cheek. Her skin felt warm, the sun still shining down on her.
She jumped, the feeling of his hand on her skin startling her. Her eyes opened and she sat up straight.
"Billy." She swallowed, still struggling to get her bearings. "What are you...Where?" She looked around, her eyes falling on familiar surroundings. The park. She remembered being here earlier, seeing the couple, and then...
"I must have fallen asleep," she said quietly, glancing up at him. She reached down quickly, her hand searching for her purse. "My purse..."
"I have it," Billy said quietly. He took a seat beside her on the bench, his eyes studying her. "Are you okay?"
"Yeah-absolutely. I'm fine. I've just been burning the midnight oil at Jabot. No rest for the wicked, right?" She smiled.
"Right...well, there are better places to grab a nap you know." Something was off. The story was a little too perfect, the smile..a little too big.
"Point taken." Phyllis nodded and stood reaching over and taking her purse from his hands. "I should go." She couldn't stop the sharp intake of breath as she felt Billy's hand take hers.
"Wait," he said. "Don't go."
She knew she should protest. She should walk away, go home, and call her husband. She should, but she didn't want to. Her husband wasn't the man in front of her, but the man in front of her made her feel things her husband never could.
Fighting her feelings, fighting with Jack, fighting with Billy. She was so damn tired of fighting. She was tired of lying-to Billy, to Jack, but most of all to herself.
Billy emerged from the kitchen. "I'm glad you agreed to come back here." He handed her a glass of water before sliding his fingers down her cheek again. "I think you got a little sun out there today. Your cheeks are all rosy."
"At least I wasn't wearing sunglasses," she smiled, "That would have been attractive."
He forced a smile. "I've got some noodles. I can throw together a pasta salad. It won't be anything fancy, but it'll kill hunger."
"You don't have to do that. I'm fine."
"You're not fine, Phyllis." The words came out in a rush, his voice harsh, his tone betraying his concern and frustration.
She stopped, her body shifting away from him. The walls going up as clearly as if they were tangible objects.
"I'm sorry," he whispered, moving closer to her. "I didn't mean it to come out like that. I'm just...these past few weeks haven't been good for me. I've been sitting in this house thinking about you, replaying every moment of our time together...I can't function. I don't eat. I don't sleep. Working is a joke. I'm just going through the motions of my life."
He looked at her. The sadness in her eyes killed him.
"And you know-I could live like that. I could make my peace with that if I knew you were happy. If I knew my being miserable meant that you got to be happy, I'd do that. I would do that for you, but that's not what's happening here. I'm watching you. Every day you look a little less alive-a little less present-a little less invested in your life. You force a smile and a laugh, but your eyes can't lie. Your eyes tell the story."
His hands trembled as he cradled her face, her green eyes now wet with tears.
"These aren't the eyes of a happy wife. These aren't the eyes of a contented women. These eyes are full of resignation, fear, regret."
Phyllis pulled back, pulling her face from his hands. "I don't want to feel those things, but I don't know how to fix this anymore. Even if we tell Jack the truth, how can we live with this...how can we be happy knowing what we've done to him." Her shoulders shook as her sobs finally broke.
Billy gathered her in his arms, his embrace calming her, her hands softly stroking her hair. They remained like this for a while, until her sobbing stopped and her breathing slowed.
"I like holding you," he whispered, "I mean, I hate to see you upset, but I like being able to make it better. I always want to make it better." He glanced down, noticing for the first time that her eyes had closed.
He leaned back against the couch, softly pressing a kiss to her forehead. "I will make this better," he whispered.