Sometimes we find ourselves only when we find others. (this is a bit more mature and edgy in comparison to what I usually write so don't expect fluff please)
“Honey, you’ve been staring at that mug for the past three hours.”
Darren took a moment to reply to his wife, the smudges of swirling paint on ceramic drawing his eyes away from her.
“Today would have been her tenth birthday.”
Jane inhaled somewhat sharply and pattered barefoot over to him, looping her arms around his neck from behind.
“We’ve talked about this, Darren. It’s been three years. There was nothing you could do-”
He turned rapidly, eyes blazing and glistening with unshed tears.
“Yes I could have!” he yelled, causing her to back away instantly, “I could have left work and picked her up from school, I could have kept that...that monster from-!”
The mug with its clumsily painted #1 Dad title was pitched angrily against the wall, Jane’s hands quivering afterwards from what she had done.
“I’m tired of this, Darren! Christ, it’s been pure torture for me. All I ever hear, Amy, Amy, Amy-”
“Don’t say her name!”
Jane stomped angrily back towards him, jerking a finger in his face.
“She was my daughter too! How can you keep forgetting that? Get your head out of the goddamn sand and get a grip! It’s been hell for me too, Darren! Been hard enough for me to even try to move on with you stuck in the past!”
Darren stared momentarily and then shook his head.
“I can’t...I can’t even think of moving on.”
His voice cracked and Jane took his hands in hers, leaning forwards until their foreheads rested together.
“I know baby, I know.”
Their tears mixed and slid down skin in their slow, uncomfortable, but both husband and wife didn’t to move to wipe them away.
Jane turned her head at an angle and pressed their salty lips together, drawing away only to have Darren cradle her face in her hands and pull her back to him.
The pair quickly made the transition from slow and aimless to desperate and searching, madly grappling at each other in the hopes of recalling emotion, any emotion but desolation as clothes fell to the too-clean floor.
They did not.
Darren stirred slowly, the sun burning his eyes through the drawn curtains. He reached his right arm out along the bed, sitting up in shock when it met only cold sheets.
Jane was walking about the room, picking up things and putting them into a large cardboard box at the foot of the bed.
“What are you doing?” Darren asked, fear lining his voice.
She turned, her sharp blue eyes assessing him with softness to them, and ran a hand through her lush black hair, the hair that felt like silk, and sighed.
“I’m sorry, Darren, but...I’ve realized that this can’t work anymore. I can’t spend any more time waiting for you to even try to mend this...mend us. I have a job opening in New York and my sister has a room-”
“You’re leaving. And you...planned this?”
The softness in her eyes was quickly buried under determination.
“-I want a divorce. I need a divorce. Last night I...Darren, I can’t try to love someone who’s too busy loving someone...dead.”
He only watched, dumbstruck, as she taped the box shut and, hauling it on top of her rolling carry-on, left the room.
Darren called her name, got up and threw on his clothes and sprinted to the elevator behind her, but the doors slid shut just as he did.
His feet carried him to the stairs and he ran down flight after flight, only to arrive breathless at the ground floor and rush out to an empty world.
It was raining, pelting water down onto his thinly-dressed body. Darren ran, ran into the wind wherever his legs would take him.
After minutes or perhaps hours his fingers were starting to go a bit numb and his thoughts were getting foggy.
He jolted back to some small amount of consciousness and almost stumbled on a crack in the sidewalk, shivering.
It was much too cold to be June. Or was it October?
Someone appeared in his path and Darren swerved, only to trip on the curb and smash his head into the ground.
And, after that, there was sweet darkness.