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*sigh*it's snowing at granny's so I got home AT THE NORMAL TIME! Grr. oh well, RPing tomorrow, right babes? And my little DH/RP fic.
Disclaimer: Not mine, so very not mine. This is what happens when the muses have grown too addicted to Desperate Housewives. Taking the lives of the Housewives and twisting them into one couples strange life. For the person (or possible people...yeah, I'm dreaming) reading this who hasn't seen DH...well, it may take you a bit to see what's going on.
Title: Trust
Rating: R
Reasons: Violent situations/sexual content/language
Genres: Drama/Angst/Romance
~Trust is a fragile thing-Mary Alice Young (Brenda Strong)/Trust is overrated~-Bree VanDeKamp (Marcia Cross)
'Desperate Housewives' (Episode 10 'Come Back To Me')~
October 22, 1992
Thursday started out like any other day. I got up, got dressed while my husband-dear, sweet James-was still sleeping. Not that this was unusual, he slept a lot. The virus, you know. Poor thing, but at least he still had his looks.
I went downstairs, peeking into the children's rooms as I passed. Jamie, asleep with her guitar clasped in her arms. Seth, smiling dreamily while a book on ballet lay sprawled on the floor. Christina, headphones still on and the Tommy Stone record still on the turntable. I couldn't help but smile at the look of innocence they all held, such a pretty thing, especially in a world like this.
I went into the kitchen, making breakfast for the four of them. I never claimed to be a great cook, but I'd learned and they'd gotten used to it. After setting everything out, I made some coffee for myself, sitting by the window as I drank it. I sat there, admiring the way the sunlight landed on my wedding ring, making the flower-shaped pattern of diamonds and emeralds sparkle. I know it was a material thing, without really any meaning at all, but it still made me smile when I thought about it. He could have just gotten me a simple gold band, but no. James loved me too much. Or rather, he loved showing the world how much he loved me too much to go with the simple and mundane. He had to be extravagant.
After I'd finished the coffee, I rinsed the cup out and set it back on the shelf. Then, I crept through the den to the hall closet. Slipping on a pair of stiletto heels, I reached up to the very top shelf. I felt around until my hands landed on cardboard. Smiling, I took the shoebox down and went back to the kitchen. There, I took the lid off and closed my eyes, running my fingers over the pretty object inside. I'd been planning this for so long that I wasn't even nervous. More like excited.
I'd gotten everything ready last night right after James fell asleep, so there was nothing to fumble with or find. I was glad, because I heard them all waking up. I lifted it out of the box and walked away from the table, stepping into a shaft of sunlight that was spilling across the creamy white tile. I heard the creak of Jamie's door, Seth's graceful footsteps heading towards the bathroom. Even though they were close, I still wasn't worried. I had it all planned out, plenty of time. I set my face in a soft smile of relief, placed the cool metal against my temple, and fired.
I bet you're asking why I did it. Why, with three children and an adoring husband, did I wake up one morning and shoot myself? Well you're not the only one who asked.
I almost felt sorry for all of them for the few moments in between the shot and my death. I'd lost any way of communication, so all I could do was stare at the receding world and keep on smiling as my family rushed in. First, poor, darling Jamie. I hadn't wanted her to be the one to see me first, my face distorted with the force of the shot. I hadn't wanted it to be any of the children. I had wanted it to be James, who had heard the sound connected with me once before, and who would thus be more sensitive to it. I had wanted him to be the one to see his wife with a gun in her hand and a hole in the side of her head. But, as it was, Jamie was the one who found me. She didn't scream, big strong girl that she is. She just knelt down and tried to talk to me.
"Mom...oh god Mom...why..."
I wanted to reach up and pet her face as she tried not to cry. I wanted to tell her that I hadn't wanted her to be hurt by her parents' actions, that this was all I could do to keep her sheltered from the horrible things we had done. But by the time she finished speaking, the world as it really existed was gone for me. I couldn't feel my son's hands on my hair, nor could I hear what my husband was muttering. But my sight, that became suddenly much clearer.
It was strange, looking in on the proceedings of my own funeral and wake just days later. Friends and family I hadn't seen in years came, though understandably none of them saw me again. No plastic surgeon could patch my face up right and, strangely enough, James shared my opinion and didn't want them to try, instead having me cremated. They all talked about me though, how strong I had been through my divorce, how good of a mother and wife I was. If they only knew.
The first person who came after the scattering of my ashes was my ex husband. Brian Slade, or as he was known now, Tommy Stone. A strange man during all times in his life, and stranger then ever now. He was, understandably, very uncomfortable being in the same house with my widower husband and my motherless children. Though he did seem to remember that he owed quite a good deal in child support, and that he hadn't seen Christina in two years. This, of course, was due to his vulture of an agent-wife Shannon Hazelbourne. No one had ever liked Shannon, but she didn't know this.
Then there was Jack Fairy. Jack was a nice fellow, in his way. A queen in every sense of the word, but generally sweet. He, however, seemed even more uncomfortable then Brian. Of course, the two of them had been involved with a gun some years earlier.
Next was Roxy. My husband's sister. I liked her, she was a sweet girl. She had her troubles, of course, but who didn't?
After her was Candice, or Candi as she preferred to be called. My sexual mentor and dear friend. Even with her wild ways, in life, it had made me sick to think of her finding out about the things I had done.
And last, but certainly not least, Curt Wild. Curt and I had always had a strained relationship, at best. He had been involved with my ex husband, and as I was to find out some time after my second marriage, our connections had not stopped there. Yet, somehow, we'd stayed strangely friendly towards each other.
There were others, of course. Many of my friends and family, a few of James'. Some who cared for me dearly, a few who were indifferent, and a good share who thought him better off. And yet here they all were, mourning my suicide, and all asking the same question. Why did I do it? Why indeed.
"Were they having any sort of...money trouble?"
"Of course not. Even if he's not doing shows any more, the royalties more than paid for the house and for all three kids to go to school."
"Were they fighting again?"
"James says they'd patched everything up, gone to a counselour and all that. They'd even...knocked boots the night before."
"Well, it must have been pretty awful knocking if she-"
"Jack!"
"I'm sorry, I just can't believe she'd do something this...messy."
"She always was a bit...strange, am I right?"
"Clinically depressed", Brian muttered in to his tea. Curt nodded,
"Right. Maybe...maybe this was just a delayed cry for help."
"What sort of help? Their marriage was better, nothing wrong with the kids, sure her work wasn't great but she'd been in it long enough..."
"We're thinking about this the wrong way."
"What do you mean?"
"Well if James doesn't know why she shot herself, and he'd been living with her for almost a little over a decade, how are those of us who only saw her off and on supposed to know why?"
The group fell silent at Roxy's words. As if they had been some long-known cue, everyone stood up, shook James' hand and offered their condolences to my family. Then, they walked off and got into their separate cars to commit their separate sins and to ponder why I'd woken up on Thursday morning planning to kill myself.
Annd leaving for the concert in 20 odd mins, eek.
Disclaimer: Not mine, so very not mine. This is what happens when the muses have grown too addicted to Desperate Housewives. Taking the lives of the Housewives and twisting them into one couples strange life. For the person (or possible people...yeah, I'm dreaming) reading this who hasn't seen DH...well, it may take you a bit to see what's going on.
Title: Trust
Rating: R
Reasons: Violent situations/sexual content/language
Genres: Drama/Angst/Romance
~Trust is a fragile thing-Mary Alice Young (Brenda Strong)/Trust is overrated~-Bree VanDeKamp (Marcia Cross)
'Desperate Housewives' (Episode 10 'Come Back To Me')~
October 22, 1992
Thursday started out like any other day. I got up, got dressed while my husband-dear, sweet James-was still sleeping. Not that this was unusual, he slept a lot. The virus, you know. Poor thing, but at least he still had his looks.
I went downstairs, peeking into the children's rooms as I passed. Jamie, asleep with her guitar clasped in her arms. Seth, smiling dreamily while a book on ballet lay sprawled on the floor. Christina, headphones still on and the Tommy Stone record still on the turntable. I couldn't help but smile at the look of innocence they all held, such a pretty thing, especially in a world like this.
I went into the kitchen, making breakfast for the four of them. I never claimed to be a great cook, but I'd learned and they'd gotten used to it. After setting everything out, I made some coffee for myself, sitting by the window as I drank it. I sat there, admiring the way the sunlight landed on my wedding ring, making the flower-shaped pattern of diamonds and emeralds sparkle. I know it was a material thing, without really any meaning at all, but it still made me smile when I thought about it. He could have just gotten me a simple gold band, but no. James loved me too much. Or rather, he loved showing the world how much he loved me too much to go with the simple and mundane. He had to be extravagant.
After I'd finished the coffee, I rinsed the cup out and set it back on the shelf. Then, I crept through the den to the hall closet. Slipping on a pair of stiletto heels, I reached up to the very top shelf. I felt around until my hands landed on cardboard. Smiling, I took the shoebox down and went back to the kitchen. There, I took the lid off and closed my eyes, running my fingers over the pretty object inside. I'd been planning this for so long that I wasn't even nervous. More like excited.
I'd gotten everything ready last night right after James fell asleep, so there was nothing to fumble with or find. I was glad, because I heard them all waking up. I lifted it out of the box and walked away from the table, stepping into a shaft of sunlight that was spilling across the creamy white tile. I heard the creak of Jamie's door, Seth's graceful footsteps heading towards the bathroom. Even though they were close, I still wasn't worried. I had it all planned out, plenty of time. I set my face in a soft smile of relief, placed the cool metal against my temple, and fired.
I bet you're asking why I did it. Why, with three children and an adoring husband, did I wake up one morning and shoot myself? Well you're not the only one who asked.
I almost felt sorry for all of them for the few moments in between the shot and my death. I'd lost any way of communication, so all I could do was stare at the receding world and keep on smiling as my family rushed in. First, poor, darling Jamie. I hadn't wanted her to be the one to see me first, my face distorted with the force of the shot. I hadn't wanted it to be any of the children. I had wanted it to be James, who had heard the sound connected with me once before, and who would thus be more sensitive to it. I had wanted him to be the one to see his wife with a gun in her hand and a hole in the side of her head. But, as it was, Jamie was the one who found me. She didn't scream, big strong girl that she is. She just knelt down and tried to talk to me.
"Mom...oh god Mom...why..."
I wanted to reach up and pet her face as she tried not to cry. I wanted to tell her that I hadn't wanted her to be hurt by her parents' actions, that this was all I could do to keep her sheltered from the horrible things we had done. But by the time she finished speaking, the world as it really existed was gone for me. I couldn't feel my son's hands on my hair, nor could I hear what my husband was muttering. But my sight, that became suddenly much clearer.
It was strange, looking in on the proceedings of my own funeral and wake just days later. Friends and family I hadn't seen in years came, though understandably none of them saw me again. No plastic surgeon could patch my face up right and, strangely enough, James shared my opinion and didn't want them to try, instead having me cremated. They all talked about me though, how strong I had been through my divorce, how good of a mother and wife I was. If they only knew.
The first person who came after the scattering of my ashes was my ex husband. Brian Slade, or as he was known now, Tommy Stone. A strange man during all times in his life, and stranger then ever now. He was, understandably, very uncomfortable being in the same house with my widower husband and my motherless children. Though he did seem to remember that he owed quite a good deal in child support, and that he hadn't seen Christina in two years. This, of course, was due to his vulture of an agent-wife Shannon Hazelbourne. No one had ever liked Shannon, but she didn't know this.
Then there was Jack Fairy. Jack was a nice fellow, in his way. A queen in every sense of the word, but generally sweet. He, however, seemed even more uncomfortable then Brian. Of course, the two of them had been involved with a gun some years earlier.
Next was Roxy. My husband's sister. I liked her, she was a sweet girl. She had her troubles, of course, but who didn't?
After her was Candice, or Candi as she preferred to be called. My sexual mentor and dear friend. Even with her wild ways, in life, it had made me sick to think of her finding out about the things I had done.
And last, but certainly not least, Curt Wild. Curt and I had always had a strained relationship, at best. He had been involved with my ex husband, and as I was to find out some time after my second marriage, our connections had not stopped there. Yet, somehow, we'd stayed strangely friendly towards each other.
There were others, of course. Many of my friends and family, a few of James'. Some who cared for me dearly, a few who were indifferent, and a good share who thought him better off. And yet here they all were, mourning my suicide, and all asking the same question. Why did I do it? Why indeed.
"Were they having any sort of...money trouble?"
"Of course not. Even if he's not doing shows any more, the royalties more than paid for the house and for all three kids to go to school."
"Were they fighting again?"
"James says they'd patched everything up, gone to a counselour and all that. They'd even...knocked boots the night before."
"Well, it must have been pretty awful knocking if she-"
"Jack!"
"I'm sorry, I just can't believe she'd do something this...messy."
"She always was a bit...strange, am I right?"
"Clinically depressed", Brian muttered in to his tea. Curt nodded,
"Right. Maybe...maybe this was just a delayed cry for help."
"What sort of help? Their marriage was better, nothing wrong with the kids, sure her work wasn't great but she'd been in it long enough..."
"We're thinking about this the wrong way."
"What do you mean?"
"Well if James doesn't know why she shot herself, and he'd been living with her for almost a little over a decade, how are those of us who only saw her off and on supposed to know why?"
The group fell silent at Roxy's words. As if they had been some long-known cue, everyone stood up, shook James' hand and offered their condolences to my family. Then, they walked off and got into their separate cars to commit their separate sins and to ponder why I'd woken up on Thursday morning planning to kill myself.
Annd leaving for the concert in 20 odd mins, eek.