I'm usually not such a big fan of AU, but I've decided that for Day 5 I'll make an exception… I've been toying with the idea of this fic for a while now… so here it is…
She thought she'd try out a different supermarket this time. She hated the one she usually went to; it was too close to the bar and she repeatedly ran into the men that had she had seen drunk, aggressive and drooling just the night before. She hated how most of them would ignore her, but she hated those who called after her even more. They always made her realize just how badly she was wasting away her life.
This supermarket was closer to the suburbs; smaller and in way more distinguished. It was even more peaceful somehow, which was something she valued. Between a noisy boyfriend at home named Ricky and the usual stress at the bar, a moment of peace in her life was rare and greatly appreciated.
She took her time collecting all the things she needed and throwing them in her basket: sausages, cheddar cheese, yoghurt, tomatoes, salad, diet coke… She'd always laughed at women who made grocery lists- which was something she'd never done in her life- scoffing that it was stupid and pathetic. But in a way, she envied those women with the grocery lists as well, because it gave them a sense of practicality, a sense of a structured life that she could only dream of.
Milk, she remembered, I need milk.
Being unfamiliar with the place, it took her a few minutes to find where they kept the milk; even though with her good sense of direction, it rarely took her long to find anything. As she reached for a pack, she was startled to see another hand go for it as well. Reflexively, she pulled her hand back and so did the other woman, and then they both smiled at each other hesitantly.
"Sorry," the woman said, moving to reach for another pack.
She smiled back as she placed the original pack in her basket. Her eye fell upon the woman's cart, and then on the toddler sitting in the child's seat. The little girl looked quite a bit like her mother- they both had round, heart-shaped faces surrounded by wild, auburn curls- but the baby was unquestionably darker, both her eyes and her skin. She was breathtakingly beautiful.
"Cute kid," she commented, and the woman looked at her tiny daughter briefly and smiled.
"Thanks."
She started off in search of eggs, but she stopped dead in her tracks as she heard a painfully familiar voice, her blood running cold even before her brain could match a face to it.
"Hey, there you are. I found the steaks; did you get the milk?"
He saw her and also froze, and for a moment they just stared at each other. Finally he uttered her name very softly, much softer than she ever remembered him speaking.
"Jen."
She wanted to run, turn away from him and never look back again; but it was as if her feet had a mind of their own, locking her firmly in place. She didn't understand why he still had this power over her, or why it had been so difficult to see him go that day now well over two years ago. She had always known he'd never gotten over his ex-wife, the woman he had loved so much that he'd given up everything for her. The woman who had abandoned him when things got rough, leaving her to try to clean up the mess she'd left him in.
And yet, when he'd actually walked out the door with his bags, she'd felt a kind of loneliness that she'd never known before, followed by a sense of failure than caused her to despise herself far more than she had ever despised him or even her.
She forced her eyes away from him, only to find herself looking at her, suddenly seeing the generous woman who had let her have the pack of milk cartons, in an entirely different light. And she could tell by the bewildered look on the woman's face that she also knew exactly who she was looking at.
He came to his senses first, placed his hand on his wife's lower back and said quietly, with a gentleness that she had never heard before, "Michelle, um… why don't you head over to the pay-desk? I'll be there in a sec."
The woman looked hesitant for a moment, but then nodded and pushed the cart in front of her as she walked away.
The gorgeous little girl caught her eye as she watched them disappear around the corner. And this time she saw what she couldn't believe she hadn't seen before: the child was all him, with only hints of her mother here and there.
Before he could say anything, she asked him, mainly to put off the conversation she knew was coming, "What's her name?"
If he was surprised at her question, he didn't show it. "Jen…"
"Your daughter," she said, her voice sounding strange and strangled, "What's her name, Tony?"
He looked down at his hands for a moment, before looking up at her and saying softly, "Carmen."
She nodded and lowered her eyes, not wanting him to see that she was fighting off emotions she had convinced herself were long gone.
He had a daughter named Carmen. It wasn't fair; less than three years ago he had been drunk every single night, needing her to look after him- and now he had a beautiful wife and an adorable daughter named Carmen.
"So uh… how've you been?" he asked her, and she wondered why his voice was now always so soft. What had happened to the irritated snap and the drunken slur she remembered from their four and a half months together?
She shrugged, still refusing to meet his eyes. "Life goes on, right? I didn't fall apart or anything after you left."
She saw him nod out of the corner of her eye. "I know."
Now she finally looked at him and saw that he was fiddling with the end of his sleeve, looking shy, even uncomfortable. He was so many things she never knew him to be when he was with her; he had never been uncomfortable; awkward and short-tempered, yes- but never uncomfortable.
"Look, Jen… about that day…"
He hesitated for a moment, as if waiting for her to say something that would make it easier on him, but she just glared at him.
"I'm sorry. I guess I never… I never thanked you for… taking care of me when…"
His voice trailed away as she remembered. She had known the moment she saw his face that it was over; she could tell by the way he refused to look her in the eye. She had been livid and hadn't even given him the chance to explain. She'd ended up storming to the bedroom and locking herself in, not wanting his apologies or his sympathy.
"When she wouldn't," she finished for him.
"Couldn't," he whispered. She could tell he wanted to say more in his wife's defence defence, but when he saw her face he kept his mouth shut.
He had never liked discussing Michelle with her; he only did when he was so drunk that he didn't know what he was saying. He had always refused to show her pictures, as if not wanting to taint anything about his marriage and his memories by involving her in it. She had been curious, wanting to know what it was about this woman that made him love her so much.
Michelle was nothing like her, that much she knew. From the few things he had told her, she had gathered that his wife had been calm, loving, gentle. Someone who knew what to say at the right time. Someone who could make him laugh when he needed it.
So what had he seen in her? She wondered, not for the first time, why he hadn't gone looking for someone that was more like the woman he loved?
And now, as she looked at him, the answer hit her, and it caused her heart to sink. He hadn't wanted anyone that would remind him of his ex-wife. He'd wanted someone who would give him the distance he'd needed since being released from prison. Someone he wasn't afraid of hurting when he screwed up. Someone he wouldn't be willing to commit treason for.
"Are you happy?" she asked him, holding his gaze, refusing to let him zone out on her. She wasn't quite sure what she wanted him to tell her, but she knew that him trying to get out of giving her an answer would be by far the worst.
He looked at her for a long time before slowly nodding and saying softly, "Yes."
She nodded back at him, still not sure if she was glad for him or if she hated him for being happy when her life was still a struggle every day. She could tell that he was contemplating asking her the same question, but that he was afraid of the answer. She made the decision for him, having no desire to let him in on what was going on with her life.
"I have to go."
She tried to think up a reason for why she would have to leave, but when one didn't immediately come she stopped trying, knowing he wouldn't buy it anyway.
She looked at him for another moment, and then moved past him. She was a few feet further when he called out, "Jen?"
She turned and he took a step closer to her. "I hope things work out for you."
His words caught her off guard, and suddenly she knew why it had been so hard to see him go. Not because she loved him. Not because he was leaving her for the woman who had caused him so much pain.
Because she had always known deep down that he was a good man- despite the anger, despite the booze, despite the harsh words. She'd always known he would never do anything to deliberately hurt her. He was decent, and that was not something she could say about every man she had ever dated. It wasn't something she was sure she could say about Ricky.
She nodded and quietly said, "Thanks."
And with that he, gave her a small smile and left her to go join his wife and daughter.