A/N: A bit rushed but I wanted a little more settled feeling to this story. I imagined a lot more going on between the first chapter and this one, as I'm sure anyone can imagine, but I've had this part actually written for a while. So here it is. The conclusion.
Chapter 2
3 months later
The conversation she has with Tom is the most difficult she's ever had.
He knows she loves him. And because he loves her, he knows she's been drifting away. But finding out that part of the reason is Susan Miller shocks him beyond all measure.
She tells him that she knows it's crazy, that she is a coward for keeping it a secret so long, but also that he once told her to do what feels right. And she admits that even if Susan can't follow through the same way, being with her feels right. She tells him she can't be with him anymore.
Tom sits in silence for a while. He knows how his wife looks at other women sometimes. But he's never considered the possibility of what's happening now.
"Please say something," Trina says desperately, her cheeks stained with tears. She's not supposed to be the one crying. But then she's never been good at endings. And after all she's done, she knows that's what this is.
He looks at her. His eyes seem hollow for a moment, his mouth hangs open slightly. Then he closes it and she sees the man she loves – the man she will always love – return to himself.
"In a few hours, when I realize what's happening, I'm probably going to hate you." He says simply.
Trina feels a fresh wash of tears heat behind her eyes. He continues.
"But what I know right now, and what I'll figure out when I stop being angry, is that I just want you to be happy. And I know that's not with me anymore."
She does cry then, and smiles too. Tom's always seemed to know her so well. Not to say he was never selfish, but she never doubted for a second that would do what was best for her. Even if it means breaking his own heart is it does now.
She lunges for him and pulls him into her arms, her tears falling hot against his shoulder.
"I'm so sorry, Tom. I'm sorry I couldn't be better for you." She sobs, hating that it has happened this way. That she's forestalled ending things just because she was afraid.
"Baby, you're the best. No matter what happens, you'll always be the best." Tom replies softly.
He lets her go then, with great difficulty.
"I'm gonna stay in a motel till we sort out everything."
"I can put you up." She says immediately, but he steadies a hard glare at her.
"No. I'm going to do it myself. It's better that way." He says firmly.
She nods.
"I love you, you know." She says. She almost regrets it because she feels as though at this point saying those words will only hurt him more. Then he smiles.
"I do."
They laugh lightly. It's odd to hear those two words again, here at the end.
And just like that he's packing two suitcases, as if he were leaving for an extended layover. This time of course he's not coming back home. She sits in the living room while he does it, trying to still her crying. She barely has the energy left to bid him goodbye at the door.
She watches him drive away and her gaze lingers on the street, drifts over to the Miller's house.
It's raining. Of course it is.
Even now that she's free, she can't bring herself to call Susan. She can't really expect anything from her now, certainly not anything more than what she's already given.
2 days later
"I can't believe it! Tom and Trina?" Bruce laughs darkly. His voice is venomous. "What am I saying – I guess we should have expected it. You don't go around sleeping with half the neighbourhood and not expect this ending."
"Bruce!" Susan's voice is hot, angry, and Bruce looks at her with shock.
"What?"
She doesn't know what: what to say, what to feel. She can't believe it herself. That Trina's actually ended her marriage. It seems surreal. All of those long, dimly-lit conversations in bed about a life together – they suddenly seem too close and she knows its fear she's feeling. Because Trina could convince her of anything when she ran her fingers through her hair, soothing her, spinning dreams behind her eyelids at the drop of a few words. But those fingers aren't soothing her now. This is the reality.
When Susan settles into silence, offering no explanation for her admonishment, Bruce continues again.
"He didn't even say who it was she cheated with. I have to say I'm not surprised it was Trina in the end. But nobody deserves that."
"You're right," Susan says absently, barely a part of what can only be loosely defined as a conversation. She almost laughs at the absurdity of what he's just said, based on what she's done and what she knows he's been doing behind her back. She looks at him, hard, and hardens herself too. Her heart is beating impossibly loud and fast. "I know who it was."
His eyebrows rise in intrigue. "So?" He prompts when she doesn't follow-up right away.
"It was me."
He laughs loudly. The sound of it echoes through the quiet house. She's glad the kids aren't home.
"I'm not lying, Bruce."
"That's absurd! How do two women even – you're pulling my leg," he says. His smile is still wide; he chuckles.
"I wouldn't joke about this." She's stoic. Her words are cool.
He is silent for half a minute. The smile drips from his face like candle wax as he adjusts.
"So – so what, you messed around with Trina Decker? What the hell am I supposed to say to that?"
Susan avoids his eyes. She almost corrects him, to tell him it wasn't just "messing around," but she stops herself.
"Exactly what you are saying, I guess." Susan says. For a moment she almost regrets admitting it at all. Then she imagines what Trina's reaction would be in this situation. On either side of it. She knows the woman would be calm, perhaps a little melancholy. She would be gentle, even in anger. It is this thought she clings to as she turns her gaze up to observe Bruce's boiling rage.
"And what? You're a dyke now? I don't get it, Susan! What the hell were you thinking?" He's far into her personal space now. The vein in his forehead is bulging and all at once he's too close, he's too angry, and she feels her composure burst.
"I was thinking that it was refreshing to be with someone who gave a shit. That while my husband was cheating on me with a girl half his age, at least I could find comfort and a friend in a woman who cares more about me than I would guess you even have the capacity for! And I was thinking, that I'm in love with her!" Her throat is ragged, her voice shrill. Her eyes wide and wet. It takes her a few seconds to register the last words out of her own mouth. It takes her a few seconds longer to realize she is telling the truth.
Bruce, for his part, is slack-jawed, stupefied by Susan's revelations. He doesn't think he's heard her so candid in the entire span of their marriage. He can't believe she's known about his affair and said nothing until now. The guilt, the shame, the confusion – it washes over him all at once. His eyes drop to the floor; his mouth is agape.
"You know?" He says, more to the floor than to her.
"How could you think I wouldn't, Bruce?" Her arms hang limply at her sides. Her brow is furrowed.
"I – I mean… I didn't know about you."
"You knew I was going to Trina's. You just never knew exactly why." She takes a few steps away from him. She isn't angry anymore. She feels sapped of the rawness that compelled her to expose so much.
She sits at the kitchen table. She wishes she had a cigarette. Bruce sits down across from her. She's grateful that his anger seems spent as well, at least for now. She knows she should feel as guilty as he does. But oddly, she doesn't.
She looks at the man she married, the man she isn't sure she's ever known well enough. She reaches her hand out across the table towards him, palm up.
He looks at it. Blinks. He reaches his own shaky fingers towards it and lays his over hers.
She knows the rest of this will be just as hard. But she feels lighter for all she's said, for all he's heard. She knows that no matter what comes of it, this is the right decision.
It's almost midnight and Trina Decker isn't sleeping. She's sitting out on her patio with a bottle of merlot and a half-empty pack of cigarettes. She'd hoped the wine would help her sleep, but it doesn't work tonight.
It's almost midnight. And someone's knocking at her door.
For a moment her heart beats faster. She knows its hope that's settled there, but she crushes her cigarette into the ashtray, willing a similar action to her heart. She can't let herself imagine who's on the other side of that door. Imagining and hoping will only make it hurt more.
For a moment she feels too weary to move. She pretends she didn't hear a knock at all. Then it comes again and she drags herself to her feet, clutching her blanket more tightly around her shoulders. She shuffles to the door and places her hand on the doorknob. She takes a deep breath. She opens it.
Her heartbeat picks up again. Because there, standing only a few paces from her door, is Susan. She looks nearly as worn as Trina imagines she herself must look at that moment. Then Susan smiles. And everything in the world seems brighter for it. Trina finds herself smiling back, in spite of it all. She hopes that Susan's smile means what she wants it to.
Susan rushes forward and takes Trina in her arms, holding her so tightly she's bound to stop breathing. Trina holds her fiercely. The blanket around her shoulders falls to the ground. Her hand finds Susan's hair and tangles into it, holding the woman's head against her shoulder.
After a long minute, Trina speaks up.
"We should really get you inside." Her voice is seductive as always, but she can't hide the note of contentment that rings through every syllable. "The neighbours will talk."
Susan laughs against her, the sound muffled into her skin, the reverberations of her body filling Trina with warmth.
Susan pulls back in Trina's arms to look her in the eye again. She brings a hand up to the woman's tanned cheek and strokes her thumb against it like she can't believe she's real. Trina grins again and pulls her inside, lifting the blanket from the ground and tossing it to the couch. She guides them both to the couch, pulling Susan to sit beside her. She wants nothing more than to drape herself in Susan's body, to feel every inch of her right where she belongs, but she has to hear it first.
"What happened?" Trina asks but doesn't look at Susan's face. She watches the tightening of the woman's fingers around her own.
"I told him I've been seeing you. I told him," Susan takes a deep breath in. "I told him I know about his affair." Susan pauses but Trina can tell there's more. She doesn't push. She merely strokes the hand in hers.
Susan pulls their hands in tighter to her and looks into Trina's face. She tilts her head and Trina meets her gaze.
"I told him I'm in love with you."
Trina stops breathing. They've never used the word. Not really. It's not the same when it's just about something – I love your eyes or I love your hair, I love your voice, your hands, your laugh. It's not the same as the full thing, the full feeling.
"And are you?" Trina asks, almost fearfully.
Susan hesitates only for a moment. She's loathe to admit she almost enjoys that Trina is afraid in that moment. That fear confirms that she's not alone. Susan smiles.
"I am."
The words are barely out of her lips before they're claimed entirely by Trina's advancing mouth. She throws her whole body into Susan's, willing them together as if they could mold into one by proximity. Susan thinks she might succeed in her efforts. Other than that, Susan barely thinks at all because she is kissing Trina and their hands are grasping wildly at eachother, trying like hell to inhabit the same space. Soon enough Trina is all the way on top of her, grinding her thigh between Susan's and pinning her into the couch cushions.
"I missed you," Trina murmurs against her lips and Susan can feel the light splash of a few hot tears against her cheek. Trina's tears. She opens her eyes and holds the dripping face in her hands. She observes the fresh, wet tracks under her eyes and the spots where the tears have unhinged and fallen prey to gravity. Susan kisses those spots, sopping up the dampness with her lips and finishing with a firm kiss to Trina's forehead. She pulls the woman down to her body and strokes her back as the woman weeps softly and settles against her.
"I love you." Susan says firmly, making sure she is heard and understood. She knows that the road ahead will be difficult, likely even brutal at times. Many will not appreciate or like or even remotely comprehend what she feels for Trina. But she knows by now that what other people think won't make her any happier. Not really.
The things that make her truly happy are the things that matter: Laurie's broad generalizations about the state of mankind, the world, and all that's in it, as if she has all of the answers before she's turned twenty; B.J.'s hopeless romanticism and tender heart, his gentleness mimicking her own; Janet's obsessiveness and over-abundance of care and kindness.
And Trina's smile, her patience, her refreshing wisdom and grace, her laugh, her acceptance and warmth, her spontaneity. Her ability to bring light to any darkness, to restore any absence with her own abundance. Susan knows that everything Trina is – whether she's sick or sad, tired or beaten-down, content or ecstatic and everything in-between – is exactly what she wants. She knows it as if it is an ingrained sense. Something so obvious, so tangible, that she can't ignore it.
"I love you too. So much." Trina mumbles. Susan can feel the words against her chest. Inside her chest, too. Where they mark her deeply.
More than anything, in that moment, Susan feels a sense of peace. It's something she's felt in various moments of her life – the memories of holding her newborn children leap to mind – and it's much the same. It feels like a culmination.
She feels like she's in the right place with the right heart beating against hers. She feels whole.