A/N: Thanks Chrissie for the beta job! 3
It was past two in the morning when we finally came back from dinner. My jaw and mandible were hurting so much from all the fake smiling I had to endure during the night. I unconsciously came to hate that life, even more so when it turned against me in new and unexpected ways, and Washington was nothing more than an amplified tank of everything that I despised.
All I remember from the night is that I probably drank more than I should have, and I blessed Eli's dedication to sucking it up to someone - whose name got forgotten between the second and third glass of wine – so for once he couldn't keep score.
I ambled the carpeted landing to my hotel room barefoot, enjoying its softness and the peaceful silence enshrouding the floor. My stiletto heels were off and hanging from my hand as soon as we stepped out of the elevator. I should know better than to wear new shoes on these events, but clearly it's been too long since I've attended one last.
When Peter paused in front of my door, his eyes asking to come inside, I promptly invoked tiredness and the very late hour. No matter how innocent his intentions might have been, to let him inside in the middle of the night sounded like a terrible idea. Not to mention, alcohol was starting to unleash its most uncontrollable side, the one where I couldn't trust myself. I could catch the mild, though probably not unexpected, letdown as I said good night to him, and saw the half-smile he gave me before turning to open his door, then disappearing behind it. And I sighed in relief.
/ / /
Zach's face, as we met at the restaurant Peter reserved for the occasion, was something I won't forget any time soon. Happy, that's for sure, the opportunities to spend time together, now that he's in college, are precious little, and the brand new Mac he'd been fancying for a while now definitely boosted his enthusiasm; but also wary and definitely on the alert, as if we were to drop some kind of shocking bombshell at any moment. On one hand I found his reaction to our visit entertaining; the way he peered at us both askance, dropping randomly trick questions, made me laugh more than once. But on the other hand it hurt to understand where his feeling came from and to empathize with him. I tried but failed sorrowfully to remember the last time we had a genuine family moment like this, a moment where we spent time together just because we wanted it and not as a front for decisions to make, or changes to face; or even worse, because the occasion required that we were all the same room. And as I exchanged looks with Peter, I couldn't help but wonder if he was thinking the same. This conclusion I drew only managed to make the celebration even more treasurable, and the few hours on our hands passed way faster than I wanted them to between a stroll down the Mall and a quick visit to the Capitol.
By the time we say goodbye to Zach it's dinner time, but the perfection that was today has been more than enough to satiate me and I'd rather take some needed time for myself, something I extremely missed during this trip. But as I open the door to my room, I hesitate, having a sudden change of heart. It just feels wrong to end the day like this, especially when Zach kind of left me with the uneasy feeling that there are a few things we should discuss. It was much easier when the kids were in the dark about our marriage arrangements, it was much easier to keep feigning and hide behind the convenient excuse of our jobs keeping us distant. But ever since they decided it was time to grow and stopped pretending to believe that everything was fine, I knew that this bargain was destined to a fast failure.
So, with no further indecision, I decide to invite Peter in.
He stops right behind the door, but doesn't walk in any farther than that, peeping around, then staring at me as I quickly text Grace to brief her about the day. He doesn't move from there, not until I look up from the phone and give him full attention. "It turned out a nice day," I observe, because we have to start the conversation somewhere, and this has genuinely been one of the best days I spent in a very long time.
"It did," Peter nods, as he slowly moves closer and finally takes a seat on the small sofa.
As I sit on the bed, one bleep of the phone announces an incoming text. Grace's answer. My gaze shifts between the screen and Peter as I read the few words, then lay the phone beside me and stare back at him. I'm not used anymore to seeing him dressed casually, well, sort of. Most of the occasions in which we meet involve neckties and formal dresses. I heave a sigh and finally give voice to what's bothering me ever since we dropped our son. "Is this what we did to our kids? That now they mistrust everything we do together?"
Peter looks down for a moment, then stares back at me, bitterness in his eyes, and nods. "Apparently."
At least I know I'm not just imagining things. Not that this makes my heart feel any lighter. "I don't want it."
"Me neither," he sighs. "These arrangements suck."
As much as I'm sure his words are not meant to hurt, they still do. I'm well aware those are my arrangements and they can't be undone. But if there is a way to patch this situation, I'm sure I'd take it without batting an eyelid if that means getting our kids to regain their trust in us.
I need wine. I need a good glass of wine.
I walk to the cabinet and snort when the only alcoholic thing I find inside is bottled beer. With resignation I take two bottles and show them to Peter, who shrugs then nods in agreement. "What can we do about it?" I ask as I open them, hand him one, then take a small sip before sitting back.
Peter looks down at the bottle but doesn't drink. Lost in his thoughts, he stares blankly at the label for a long moment, then finally looks up and, with a shrug, he suggests, "We should maybe try to spend more time together?" His eyes don't falter or leave mine, not even for one instant.
And the time I spend weighing his suggestion is even briefer. "Don't go back there." I say, and my statement encounters a look of plain confusion.
"Go back where?" he asks. In good faith? Possibly.
So I make myself clear. "To moving. To make work something that stopped working long ago. The fact that we are both desperately alone doesn't make it automatically the right thing to do." I say it all in one breath, then stand up and move away, staring out the window.
"Nor does it make it wrong." His words are barely whispered, maybe ready to be taken back?
I turn my head to stare at him and I see him look down, just enough to shake away what I've just said, then stare back at me. "But don't worry, that's not what I was suggesting."
My brows knit in a mix of perplexity and curiosity, but I don't move from where I'm standing. "Then what?"
"Come with Grace on the weekends."
It takes me a while to grab his words. "What?" The question is rather rhetoric. It's clear what he's asking me, but I can't hide the surprise.
"You come with her, we do things as the family we used to be." His voice is almost soft. Almost. I can't say it's a plea, but there's definitely a lot of honesty in his proposal. Maybe some need, too, I could swear.
I open my mouth to protest but don't have time to actually speak because he quickly catches breath and goes on. "Don't try to come up with excuses to say no. I'm not asking you anything more than this. And I want to believe it's not that big of a sacrifice."
I look down, pondering his request, this time for real, then slowly walk back to the bed and sit again. Going to Springfield with Grace? I'm not sure how – and if - we can even make it work. It might go well once, maybe twice. But eventually we would end up finding a way to ruin even the little time he spends together with his daughter. But I was the one who asked for a way to fix this, and Peter offered one. If there is a way to patch this situation, I'm sure I'd take it without batting an eyelid. Only minutes ago I was ready to agree to everything. He's right in the end. It shouldn't even be a sacrifice to begin with, but…
But…
"Not every weekend," I finally half agree.
"I'd never ask you for it," he shakes his head with resolution, then pauses and stares at me pensively and I can hear his brain's gear work to find a good compromise. "Once a month?"
Once a month. I can do that, right? It's just a small commitment in the end and the more I think about it, the more it doesn't sound so bad anymore. "Sounds reasonable," I agree, "but on one condition."
Peter's face goes from satisfied to worried in the space of a fistful of seconds. "Which is?"
"You do the same." I'm not sure how I ended up suggesting this, but I guess that if we want to make this attempt work, there must be the same level of commitment on both sides.
"No excuses of any sort. We really commit to doing this," he softly admonishes me with a faint smile.
"No excuses." I nod and smile.
