Genderline
(dba side story the second)




When Marron arrives home from work, he is already in bed. But not asleep. The absurdity of her thirty-some year old husband concentrating on his gameboy makes her laugh, and he looks up startled before laughing too, not knowing the joke but willing to pretend.

It's times like this she almost thinks that they might work it all out after all.



Growing up, she had been asked many times what she wanted to do when she was grown up. Her friends were practical, even at the age of four, and all would list things like "Firefighter" and "Ice-Cream Truck Driver." Marron, when pressed, would reply that she wanted to be a Mommy, and the teacher would make a sound that meant "Oh-how-cute!" and move on.

She should have married Trunks, and ended up in a relationship that she had always pretended to be in, but pretend rarely works out and she hates him, anyway.

But is still seemed off to her, that while she spent her day at work earning her family's money, her husband stayed home and raised the Twins. There was no resemblance to her dream life that she could understand, and when talking to children that had been beaten and raped by parents, Marron would worry about her own children and wish she was there to take care of them.

And she knew that to be silly, because her husband was far stronger then she, but he was so childlike in himself that she couldn't stop the worries, thinking of things that could hurt the children without any violence.

And the little girl she was with would sit on the floor and then run into the corner to hide because a hand meant to comfort had touched her scarred skin.

With Trunks, she wouldn't have to work. She could stay home and raise her children, cook and greet her husband and be the Mommy she had dreamed of. But Marron knew better, that the dream ignored the unhappiness, loneliness, and feelings of boredom that would result. Trunks would be a loyal but un-passionate mate.

After work, she packed up her things and prepared to leave. A coworker, male, young, handsome, stopped her. Clumsily invited her to dinner. Marron tended not to wear a ring. Her husband arrived on impulse to pick her up, and in a rare bout of over-protectedness slipped an arm around her waist, telling her that the twins were being baby-sat by his niece and asking for an introduction.

The coworker backed away, apologizing. Marron bought him coffee the next day.

Pan and Bra were talking about romance. Pan had set her sights on Trunks, of all people, and was trying to explain why she found him attractive to his sister. Bra was unimpressed. Marron was; she didn't know anyone could look at the serious business man and see something else.

Bra said she'd prefer not to settle down until she was much older, because there were plenty of men in the world and plenty of things to do. They asked her what she thought -- the old married mother -- and Marron skirted the question, because she wasn't sure if she even loved her husband in the first place.

They hadn't wanted marriage, but the short relationship had ended in pregnancy, and with two part Saiyan to think of marriage was all they could. They liked each other well enough, and could act the couple when needed, but the question hung there, over both:

Could love come after marriage?

Marron had always believed it to be so, but she had been naive then. Then -- that long stretch of time before giving birth, getting married, and becoming a psychologist for the children that made her want to just curl up and cry. Naivety was quick to vanish to life, and Love had yet to appear.

But she was loath to criticize her partner in life, feelings or none. He was a devoted father, and took care of things smoothly. He learned to cook, to clean, never complained seriously, and was always there to smile and listen to her.

He was the wife, she was the husband. He carried out her childhood dream for her, while she prodded children to spill secrets of rape and hurt. She wished to be him, and she wished that she had married Trunks, after all. If he'd have had her.

And who knew? Perhaps then when some poor boy asked her for dinner, she would refuse, because she didn't care what her other thought.

But caring was not love.



He looks up from his gameboy and turns it off with a flick. "I put the twins in bed already." he offers, laugh fading to a comfortable smile.

He never worries. He never sees the bruises, and has never had to speak to a child who saw her father beat her mother to death. He's naive, he's her dream.

She's silent, unable to find words. Unable to open her mouth, because she's going to cry and she's supposed to be the husband. He sees and frowns and climbs out of the bed, tripping over knotted sheets. "What's wrong, then?"

He's the strong one, not she, and her role reversal thinking reverses itself back to the normal, and Marron becomes confused in the thinking. It's not until he leans over and kisses her that she decides: Screw the gender roles and kisses back.

And it's not love yet, but it will be, and Marron thinks that's one thing she can be sure of, still.




Ho-ho. I always tend to write these icky one-shots in less then forty-five minutes, don't I? I write something, I hate it, and I post it anyway. Well, there it is: spell-checked but otherwise the same as when I first wrote it, and it doesn't get much better (worse?) then that.

CC is welcome, as are any other sorts of comments.

--parron