Let me live, let me love
She likes the way he walks. It's kind of a swagger, the oh-so fabulously cocky kind, like he knows she's watching him and likes it. But that's all she's getting from him, a walk that induces naughty dreams. And she hates it.
She's not supposed to think about it this much, she knows. Long ago, when she moved in with him she made a pact with herself; keep Ray and his…everything…in a strictly platonic zone. She'd done it before and it tended to work. She just boxed him up in her mind and labelled him 'friend', just like she labelled Michael 'future boyfriend' the moment she saw him. But after a few months – fine, maybe weeks – the 'friend' label had been removed and replaced with 'hot guy'. She'd kicked her in the head and attempted to label him 'friend' again, but now the memory of the point of view she'd allowed herself was stuck in brain. That's when the daydreams started.
It began innocently enough, at least, as innocent as these things can be. She'd hear him come home from one of his gigs and watch him, half the time without a shirt on, swagger his way to his room through her slightly opened door. This gave her enough to pine the whole night away with. But slowly – with slowly I mean two days after the first time she spied on him – the daydreams started to creep up on her during work. This was, you have to admit, bad. Once, she'd stood and watched him walk away for nearly 3 minutes until he was long gone and Abby knocked her out of that pleasant place she'd come to adore.
But that was then and this is now. This kind of thing had been bad before but now…now it was immoral. Now she was married, sort of. The mere thought of being married to Michael made her chest feel tighter and the room seem small. And the thought that she wouldn't be married to him for much longer made her feel…bad. Bad because, really, she didn't feel bad at all. Wasn't it supposed to be every girl's dream? To be married to a handsome, brave, sweet doctor? Wasn't this supposed to be the happiest time of her life? How come she was feeling so miserably alone?
The little voice in her head had some suggestions and 90 of them included Ray. 'Ray knew you better.' 'Ray was more exciting.' 'Ray was everything you weren't supposed to want.' 'You miss Ray.' And she did miss him. She saw him plenty at the hospital, sure, and she'd even gone to one of his gigs. It was the moments she missed, moments at (what had been) home, moments spend fighting and bickering and feeling, for once, alive. Because right now, as she sits in her silent, boring, clutter-free living room, she's feeling far from alive.
He is a sweetheart, Michael, he really is. He doesn't play loud music nor have friends over without asking. He doesn't leave empty boxes instead of replacing them with new ones. He doesn't do anything that agitates her to the point of throwing things. And she hates it. Is this what married life is supposed to be like? Slowly but surely having all the life drained out of you by a man who doesn't even plan on staying? Realizing you don't know nor love this man you've just signed you life away to?
The divorce papers had been signed that morning and Michael is leaving for Iraq in the morning. Why is she still there? She doesn't really know. Her bags are packed and her coat is on. She's taking two bags now and picking the rest up in the morning. When she finally opens the door she's suddenly stopped by the nagging feeling that maybe Ray didn't even want her back, but she forces it to the back of her mind and closes the door firmly behind her.
She doesn't let herself think it over. This is not something her mind needed to discuss. It is essential to her happiness, she tells herself. It's about her, her and no-one else. Not even Ray. No matter how much she wishes it is. With her mind firmly set she knocks on the door. For a few minutes nothing happens and her heart begins to sink. She shakes her head and straightens her back before she knocks again, louder this time.
He opens the door, shirtless to her pleasure, and stares at her with mouth wide open. She shrugs, marches right in, drops her bags on the floor and goes to the kitchen. She grabs several empty cereal boxes and throws them in the trash. Ray just stares at her in disbelief as she twists off her wedding ring and lets it fall in with the boxes. Slowly the look of utter confusion fades in to a big grin. He lets out a shout and lifts her into the air. She's glowing and without thinking he kisses her square on the mouth. She smiles and lets out a breath she'd been holding for what seems months to her.
He puts her back on the ground. He looks her over once more walks away, with that delicious swagger of his, and grabs the phone.
"I'm calling the guys." He says.
"I'm cleaning up. What a bloody mess you've made of the place." She tells him in mock aggravation.
As Ray calls his entire band she looks around the living room – her living room – and sighs.
She's home. She can begin to live again.
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