A/N: This fic was supposed to be a one-shot only but since some people asked me to continue, I decided to write another chapter!
Thanks for reviewing part I, Shellie, Mariana, carliechick, Cynthia, KirstenRulez, Kiki, Ansy Pansy aka Panz, Natalie, Kylie, Mickey, Lauren, Jen, Eyeliner Stars, Helen, Mishie, Ally and Kazzie!
Lots of hugs going to Mishie for all her help:)
Solicitude
Part II - 10 am
He found her alone in the kitchen, slouched on a stool at the island, her back facing him. With her head propped on her arm, she gazed fixedly into the air; absentmindedly trailing her finger along the rim of a green coffee mug sitting in front of her. She was wearing a pink terry robe, and her disheveled, straw-colored hair tangled loosely down her shoulders.
For a moment, he stood in the door-frame, gazing at his wife's reflection in the high window, before he slowly approached and greeted her with a soft "hey baby."
"Hey," she raised her head and glanced at him; her blue eyes were empty but red-rimmed from all the tears she'd shed over the past few days.
He
noticed with a sigh that she no longer wore make up to cover the
traces of the night before.
Without
Clinique giving her pale complexion a fake appearance of health, her
face looked tiered and crushed. A maze of emotions, drained of any
happiness or spark.
He placed a soft kiss on the top of her head, "how are you feeling today?"
"I'm okay," she replied tonelessly as she slipped her finger through the handle, and lifted the mug to her lips to take a sip.
"If there's anything I can do..."
She
sat down her coffee. "No. There's not," she spat.
And
it was true; he couldn't lift the burden of having said those
things to her dad off her shoulders, alcohol did a better job there.
His eyes travelled over to the counter and caught a glimpse of an empty vodka bottle. She hadn't even made the effort to hide it. He let his eyelids drop and exhaled heavily trying to find the right words.
"We need to talk," he said in a gentle voice. "I'm worried about you."
She shifted uncomfortably under his concerned gaze and sighed. "I'm fine...I'm just tired, but, there's no need to worry."
"I think there is, honey." Vodka for breakfast gave him every reason to be concerned.
"Things can't go on like this." He motioned towards the vodka bottle, then reached out for her hands and took them into his.
"I love you and I can't watch you doing this to yourself."
She rolled her eyes. "Nobody is asking you to watch me. I am fine!"
Having wrenched her hands away from his grasp, she defensively crossed her arms in front of her chest.
"Honey-"
She cut him off mid-sentence, "oh please, let it go," and reminded him, "my dad just died."
"Honey, it's more than that. I think you have a problem." He paused for a few seconds to let his words sink in. Eventually, he held out his hand, palm up, "You need help. Let me help you..."
She shoved him away, "that's not neccessary," she hissed coldly and stood up. Turning away from him, she declared, "I am fine and I don't need any help," her voice was firm, her words like ice.
Something inside him suddenly snapped. For a moment, he shook off his gentle tone and spoke the harsh words that lingered on his tongue, "and end up like your mom?"
Her body visibly tensed and her lower lip quivered with building rage. A surge of regret swept through him, as he saw her bristle under his accusing tone.
"How dare you say that!" she yelled angrily, shaking so violently that her legs could barely support her weight. "I am NOT like my mother!"
She turned her face away, swallowed hard and bit back the tears that prickled behind her eyes and threatened to fall down.
Although
she jerked away from his touch, he eventually managed to grab her
wrists. Trying to calm her down, he pulled her into an embrace.
She
wanted to free herself from his grip, and tried to push him away but
he was too strong. He took her in his arms, murmuring inaudible words
of comfort and apologies.
"I'm not like mom," she repeated uncertain, her voice gradually dissolving into sobs.
Her eyes welled up and finally a few single droplets found their way out of the corners of her blue eyes and slipped down her cheeks.
"Shh, honey, don't cry," he said soothingly, as he glided his fingers through her blonde locks.
Sobbing uncontrollably, she collapsed in his strong arms and buried her face in his chest. He wrapped his arms tighter around her body and lightly caressed up and down her spine until her trembling subsided.
When he holds her close to him, strokes her back and smoothes her hair, he thinks he can help her.
He thinks that he can get her through this.
He thinks the intervention won't be neccessary.
He tilted her head back, cupped her face in his hands and kissed her on the forehead. Brushing his lips gently over her eyelids, he continued downward, lovingly kissing away her tears. One by one.
Yes, sometimes he believes he can save her.
He can dry her eyes, and give her solace.
He can make her feel alright.
Slowly, he trailed his mouth alongside her damp cheeks until it finally reached her chapped lips.
But
when he tasted liquor, he knew.
He
knew it was too late.
He
knew he couldn't save her himself anymore.
After all, it was only 10 am.
end.
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Thanks,
Sunny