Title: The Prince Of Tides-
Author: Kaitlyn
Summary: "Man wonders and God decides When to kill the Prince of Tides"
Rating: PG-13
She had forgotten the meaning of true cold. It almost seemed as if the departure of every winter took with it her ability to conceptualize of anything but New York's blistering heat. She'd forgotten it's aptitude for juicing every ounce of energy she had, but the memory was flooding back to her in waves as she laid curled up underneath the layers of flannel sheets and the white down comforter of their bed.
The world had seemed to transform from a summer beach house's balcony to cavern atop Mt. Everest in a matter of days. She couldn't help but draw the morbid connection between the fluctuation in the recent weather patterns and of her own, battered existence. In her mind, she was still at the beach, but the ocean was merely impossible to see behind the constant sheet of tears that blinded her eyesight. That thought was more comforting, anyway. It was just about the only thing, these days.
She hated how weak this had made her. She could barely bring herself to get up out of bed, and Ross would certainly never force her to. He was tiptoeing around her these days- treating her like some porcelain doll that could not be left alone nor held too tightly. Obviously, that had taken a little getting used to. Jealousy, she was used to. Patronizing, even, was at least vaguely familiar. Babying and catering, however, were alien to her in his ministrations.
Neither of them had slept that first night after she had told him, but for two, entirely separate reasons. She had been exhausted, but his tedious and endless offerings of comfort- both physical and verbal- had been more so. They were endearing at first, but nearly infuriating by the end of the first week. She didn't really understand her reaction to him, but she didn't have the time nor the patience to attempt analyzing them. She simply felt what she felt, and she was definitely feeling a resentment towards him lately that, though possibly unwarranted, exceeded any anger she had ever held for him in the past. If she were indeed the raging fire that she felt building up inside her, then Ross was the all-to-impatient camper, smothering and smoldering her until she extinguished all together.
*******************************************************************************
She had never been so infuriated. Not once up to this point in her existence had she ever felt such an overwhelming urge to punch someone- a very particular someone.
He had not shown up. Not only that, he had expressly TOLD HER that he was going to, and had then ditched her. During the entire, brutally boring doctor's appointment, she had run over the very few acceptable reasons in her mind for his absence in filling the chair next to her. Over the length of that 2 hour meeting, she had managed to derive only 2 possibilities: His mother had died or Monica had died. She knew the second of the two was not true, and he DID have a cell phone, nonetheless.
That morning had been a particularly painful. She had not gotten out of bed yet when he left for work- in his eyes, another blatant sign of depression. It had been HIM who had reminded her of the appointment this afternoon.
"Don't forget, Rachel," he had said. "I know you want to...but don't."
This had challenged her, and hit a little closer to home than he had probably intended.
"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" she reputed.
Of course, this accusation made him feel guilty and had compelled him to leave her with a few more hollow kisses before making his way out the door.
Now, HE was the one with the nerve not to show up. When the doctor had asked her if she was feeling any nausea, she didn't quite know what to tell him. Usually? No. At this moment? Unbearably.
She left the doctor's office and made her way down to the street where she had parked the car. Upon pushing her way through the rotating glass doors, the last thing she expected to see stood directly in front of her.
Well, technically, it sat. Ross. Sitting on the pavement of the sidewalk with his back against the brick building, he had not yet seen her.
"Ross?!" she practically screeched.
Yeah, he definitely saw her now. He scrambled to his feet, poised for an explanation, as usual. Only this time...he didn't give one.
"Hi."
His voice was shallow, dulled slightly by the blistering cold and carried away in the wind. He was not hectic nor quick to an explanation (nor an excuse). He just stood there...staring blankly into her eyes.
"Um, what the hell are you doing here? The appointment was 2 hours ago!"
For the first time since she had stumbled across his, his face actually shown some sign of regret. Still, he did not shove an empty justification down her throat.
"Yeah."
(Note: Yeah, sometimes I just get tired of writing. hehe Sorry this update took so long and left you hanging, but you can't always give the audience what they want, right? :-))
Author: Kaitlyn
Summary: "Man wonders and God decides When to kill the Prince of Tides"
Rating: PG-13
She had forgotten the meaning of true cold. It almost seemed as if the departure of every winter took with it her ability to conceptualize of anything but New York's blistering heat. She'd forgotten it's aptitude for juicing every ounce of energy she had, but the memory was flooding back to her in waves as she laid curled up underneath the layers of flannel sheets and the white down comforter of their bed.
The world had seemed to transform from a summer beach house's balcony to cavern atop Mt. Everest in a matter of days. She couldn't help but draw the morbid connection between the fluctuation in the recent weather patterns and of her own, battered existence. In her mind, she was still at the beach, but the ocean was merely impossible to see behind the constant sheet of tears that blinded her eyesight. That thought was more comforting, anyway. It was just about the only thing, these days.
She hated how weak this had made her. She could barely bring herself to get up out of bed, and Ross would certainly never force her to. He was tiptoeing around her these days- treating her like some porcelain doll that could not be left alone nor held too tightly. Obviously, that had taken a little getting used to. Jealousy, she was used to. Patronizing, even, was at least vaguely familiar. Babying and catering, however, were alien to her in his ministrations.
Neither of them had slept that first night after she had told him, but for two, entirely separate reasons. She had been exhausted, but his tedious and endless offerings of comfort- both physical and verbal- had been more so. They were endearing at first, but nearly infuriating by the end of the first week. She didn't really understand her reaction to him, but she didn't have the time nor the patience to attempt analyzing them. She simply felt what she felt, and she was definitely feeling a resentment towards him lately that, though possibly unwarranted, exceeded any anger she had ever held for him in the past. If she were indeed the raging fire that she felt building up inside her, then Ross was the all-to-impatient camper, smothering and smoldering her until she extinguished all together.
*******************************************************************************
She had never been so infuriated. Not once up to this point in her existence had she ever felt such an overwhelming urge to punch someone- a very particular someone.
He had not shown up. Not only that, he had expressly TOLD HER that he was going to, and had then ditched her. During the entire, brutally boring doctor's appointment, she had run over the very few acceptable reasons in her mind for his absence in filling the chair next to her. Over the length of that 2 hour meeting, she had managed to derive only 2 possibilities: His mother had died or Monica had died. She knew the second of the two was not true, and he DID have a cell phone, nonetheless.
That morning had been a particularly painful. She had not gotten out of bed yet when he left for work- in his eyes, another blatant sign of depression. It had been HIM who had reminded her of the appointment this afternoon.
"Don't forget, Rachel," he had said. "I know you want to...but don't."
This had challenged her, and hit a little closer to home than he had probably intended.
"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" she reputed.
Of course, this accusation made him feel guilty and had compelled him to leave her with a few more hollow kisses before making his way out the door.
Now, HE was the one with the nerve not to show up. When the doctor had asked her if she was feeling any nausea, she didn't quite know what to tell him. Usually? No. At this moment? Unbearably.
She left the doctor's office and made her way down to the street where she had parked the car. Upon pushing her way through the rotating glass doors, the last thing she expected to see stood directly in front of her.
Well, technically, it sat. Ross. Sitting on the pavement of the sidewalk with his back against the brick building, he had not yet seen her.
"Ross?!" she practically screeched.
Yeah, he definitely saw her now. He scrambled to his feet, poised for an explanation, as usual. Only this time...he didn't give one.
"Hi."
His voice was shallow, dulled slightly by the blistering cold and carried away in the wind. He was not hectic nor quick to an explanation (nor an excuse). He just stood there...staring blankly into her eyes.
"Um, what the hell are you doing here? The appointment was 2 hours ago!"
For the first time since she had stumbled across his, his face actually shown some sign of regret. Still, he did not shove an empty justification down her throat.
"Yeah."
(Note: Yeah, sometimes I just get tired of writing. hehe Sorry this update took so long and left you hanging, but you can't always give the audience what they want, right? :-))