A/N: Thank you so much to all you fabulous people who keep reviewing! Be amazed! Two updates in one day! Enjoy-Kiera
Chapter Nine: You Might As Well Forget It......
After John left, Randy avoided Alex like the plague, leaving her to her own devices which involved dividing her time between reading outside and watching E! Hollywood True Story. At seven p.m, long after Alex had a shower, dried her hair and made the mistake of using wax strips she found in the bedroom, Randy came down and turned off the television.
"Now I'll never know if Bo Dereck's parents ever accepted her older lover." she said sarcastically.
Randy sat on the chair furthest away from her, which was unusal behaviour for him, well it was for the days she'd been home.
"Something the matter?"
"Alex, you need to see this. I know I shouldn't pressure you, but I thought it might help."
He gave her a white photograph album and she flipped it open. Their wedding pictures. Herself in a dress standing outside a church with Cynthia and Torrie, then by herself. Then she was there with Randy, then a whole group of people. Then came the reception pictures.
"You planned the whole thing by yourself. You wouldn't even let Cynthia help. Anything familar?"
"No. Not really. I like the colours though."
He was sitting next to her now, his arm around her waist and it made her feel uncomftorble.
"Nothing. Not the chairs."
"No."
"The place settings."
"No."
"The table cloths."
"No."
Randy knocked the album out of her hands and Alex jumped up off the couch, quicker then she thought she could move. He had his head in his hands.
"Sorry. I didn't mean too, it's just frustrating. I thought you might of remembered something."
The anger she'd felt with John came back, but it didn't go away and she began breathing heavily. The little voice that had spoken to herw hen Torrie had visited was telling her to stay calm, but it was fading quickly.
"Frustrating for you?" She demanded, her voice trembling with emotion. "Frustrating for you? What about me? I have no life! I might as well be dead and all you care about is getting your precious little wife back."
"No. Alex. I love....."
He'd stood up and was holding her hand, but she pulled back quickly.
"You don't love me, you love her!"
She pointed to herself in one of the pictures on the floor.
"And i am not her! I'm not your wife Randy. I'm someone else."
"You're not. You're Alex Orton and you may not remember it, but you are still the person I married."
"I'm not. I am someone else, even I don't know who I am, so how can you?"
"Because that's my job."
Alex gave a scream in frustration and then scrubbed at the make-up on her face with the sleeve on her jacket.
"See these? These marks? They prove I am most definatly not Alex Orton, and if you loved me as your wife so much where the hell where you when I was getting mowed down."
He looked as if he was going to cry and she knew he'd been thinking the same thing, she didn't care, she couldn't.
"Why don't you go upstairs and worry about what you've lost and leave me to worry about what I've lost, and just so you know, that's EVERYTHING!"
She left the house.
Chapter Nine: You Might As Well Forget It......
After John left, Randy avoided Alex like the plague, leaving her to her own devices which involved dividing her time between reading outside and watching E! Hollywood True Story. At seven p.m, long after Alex had a shower, dried her hair and made the mistake of using wax strips she found in the bedroom, Randy came down and turned off the television.
"Now I'll never know if Bo Dereck's parents ever accepted her older lover." she said sarcastically.
Randy sat on the chair furthest away from her, which was unusal behaviour for him, well it was for the days she'd been home.
"Something the matter?"
"Alex, you need to see this. I know I shouldn't pressure you, but I thought it might help."
He gave her a white photograph album and she flipped it open. Their wedding pictures. Herself in a dress standing outside a church with Cynthia and Torrie, then by herself. Then she was there with Randy, then a whole group of people. Then came the reception pictures.
"You planned the whole thing by yourself. You wouldn't even let Cynthia help. Anything familar?"
"No. Not really. I like the colours though."
He was sitting next to her now, his arm around her waist and it made her feel uncomftorble.
"Nothing. Not the chairs."
"No."
"The place settings."
"No."
"The table cloths."
"No."
Randy knocked the album out of her hands and Alex jumped up off the couch, quicker then she thought she could move. He had his head in his hands.
"Sorry. I didn't mean too, it's just frustrating. I thought you might of remembered something."
The anger she'd felt with John came back, but it didn't go away and she began breathing heavily. The little voice that had spoken to herw hen Torrie had visited was telling her to stay calm, but it was fading quickly.
"Frustrating for you?" She demanded, her voice trembling with emotion. "Frustrating for you? What about me? I have no life! I might as well be dead and all you care about is getting your precious little wife back."
"No. Alex. I love....."
He'd stood up and was holding her hand, but she pulled back quickly.
"You don't love me, you love her!"
She pointed to herself in one of the pictures on the floor.
"And i am not her! I'm not your wife Randy. I'm someone else."
"You're not. You're Alex Orton and you may not remember it, but you are still the person I married."
"I'm not. I am someone else, even I don't know who I am, so how can you?"
"Because that's my job."
Alex gave a scream in frustration and then scrubbed at the make-up on her face with the sleeve on her jacket.
"See these? These marks? They prove I am most definatly not Alex Orton, and if you loved me as your wife so much where the hell where you when I was getting mowed down."
He looked as if he was going to cry and she knew he'd been thinking the same thing, she didn't care, she couldn't.
"Why don't you go upstairs and worry about what you've lost and leave me to worry about what I've lost, and just so you know, that's EVERYTHING!"
She left the house.