NOTE: This story was tough to write, because it required me to get inside the head of Matt Camden – not a very pleasant place to be. Please do not believe that I share Matt's opinions about women. When I look at the character that was created on the show, this is how I see him.

As you probably know, I do not own any of these characters or anything else having to do with the show. Those are solely the province of Brenda H. and her minions. With those caveats, please read and enjoy.

Marry in Haste …

Chapter One: Alone in New York

Matt Camden sat on the sofa in the New York apartment that he had shared with his wife until five o'clock that evening -- five hours earlier. He felt sick.

On the way home from work he had passed by a McDonald's restaurant and had suddenly been consumed with longing for a cheeseburger. He paused outside the door for several minutes, sniffing the familiar smell of fried meat, while passersby shoved and bumped him and never once turned back to say they were sorry. Then he frowned and went into the restaurant, almost slamming the glass door against the wall as he entered.

What the hell, he thought viciously. I'm not a Jew yet. And at this rate, I may never be.

He had savored the burger all the way home, taking small bites so it would last. Now that he had finished it, though, he was regretting it. Waves of nausea were washing over him, and his stomach was rolling as though he might vomit. He wadded up the McDonald's wrapper and hid it in the very bottom of the trash so that he wouldn't have to look at it.

Would he ever again have a single minute of his life when he didn't feel guilty about something?

He had not expected that Sarah's leaving would free him from the crushing burden of his guilt. It was all his fault, after all. She had stayed as long as she could. For months she must have known that something was wrong, that he lied when he told her everything was fine, that he thought of somebody else every time he touched her. But she hadn't left until he made it impossible for her to pretend any longer.

It had been a long time coming.

****

It was two weeks after the wedding that he noticed that she squinted and stuck out her jaw whenever he went to kiss her.

He tried to ignore it for a few days, but finally he couldn't keep it in any longer. "Do you have to do that squinting thing all the time?"

"What squinting thing?" she asked him, bewildered.

"Nothing, it's nothing," he answered quickly.

She looked at him strangely, but didn't push it.

Ever since then, he noticed it every time. The squint and the jaw.

****

Six weeks after the wedding, he lost his temper for the first time. He had come home to find a message on the machine from her mother, offering advice about a problem they'd had in bed the night before.

"I don't want you telling your mother about that kind of stuff," he told her when she got home from work. "It's none of her business."

Sarah bristled. "I tell my mother everything," she said. "She's like my best friend."

You didn't tell her when we got married the first time, he thought, but he didn't say it. "Sarah, I'm your best friend now," he said. "We're married. You're supposed to share things with me, not with your parents."

"But they're my family!"

"I thought we were a family now!"

There was shouting. She ran into the tiny bedroom in their apartment and locked the door. For a while he stood outside the door, pleading with her and listening to her sobbing. Then he got a blanket and pillow and slept on the sofa.

He caught her coming out to use the bathroom the next morning. He apologized over and over again. She tearfully forgave him. He was almost late for his first class because of the make-up sex.

When he arrived home that evening, he listened to their messages. There was one from her mother. "Sarah," it said, "I hope you and Matt have worked things out. If not, you know you always have a home here with us."

****

It was three months into the marriage when he realized he had made a mistake.

He was lying in their bed, listening to Sarah's raspy snore. She had told him that it was just allergies. It seemed to be a very bad year for allergies in New York. He knew that she couldn't help it, that she wasn't doing it on purpose, but as he lay awake night after night, watching the numbers slip by on the digital alarm clock and subtracting the number of hours of sleep he would get if he fell asleep right now, it was hard not to blame her.

The thought came to him out of the blue, at 3:58 a.m.

I have made a mistake.

It sent a chill down his spine, leaving him shivering under the down comforter. As soon as it crossed his mind he knew that it was the truth. For all his glib reassurances, for all the impassioned speeches he'd given about love to his skeptical parents, they had been right after all. It was stupid to decide to spend the rest of your life with someone you barely knew.

He thought that he loved her, but he had never seen her sick or angry or crying. He hadn't yet encountered her stubbornness and intransigence in arguments. He hadn't realized the way she told little white lies to smooth things over and get her way. He didn't know how easily she cried.

 There was nothing to be done about it, of course. He'd made his bed, as his grandmother might say, and now he had to lie in it. For Matt Camden, son of a minister, son-in-law of a rabbi, divorce was out of the question. The number one lesson that his parents had imprinted on his brain – after No Sex Before Marriage, that is – was Marriage Is Forever. No exceptions.

Ordinarily, he would have called his parents and asked what to do. But his father lay in a hospital room that night, being prepped for open-heart surgery first thing in the morning. His mother was no doubt at her husband's side, worrying and praying. It was the absolute wrong time to bother them with the problems of their foolish older son.

Once he might have gone to a minister and asked for his advice. But now he was becoming a Jew. The rabbi who handled his conversion classes was a very old friend of Rabbi Glass and had known Sarah since she was a baby. How could he be expected to spill everything to him? He'd take Sarah's side, of course. He'd think that his sweet little Sarah had married a scumbag. He might even tell Rabbi Glass.

Some people had friends they could go to. John, his old roommate, had been full of common sense and intelligent advice. The last he'd heard from John was a card at his wedding. The only other friends he could think of were all old girlfriends. After his marriage, he had ceremoniously burned their phone numbers. It was time for a new beginning. He wouldn't be needing them again.

So now he was all alone in a strange city. The only people he knew in New York were Sarah, some friends of her family, and some acquaintances from his classes and his job at the hospital.

And Lindsey, but he couldn't call her.

He had nothing and nobody. The only thing he could do was accept it and try to move on. There was no way out.

He had made his bed and now he must lie in it.