Fan Fiction ❯ No Way To Live ❯ No Way To Live ( One-Shot )

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The sun was unbearably hot and cruel that summer, but as Yanda reached for his address book, he had only one thought on his mind: his separation from his wife. There were many who would easily console him in this time of pain, but none were truly available to him. They could only do so much for a broken man. But one name in particular was apparent above all the rest. A girl who had proved to him to be more than just a child. A passionate young woman, with a heart only for him. He eased onto the gas and turned south.

- - - - -

As Fay awoke from her makeshift bed on the sofa, her mind raced and her heart fluttered. She hadn’t dreamed about him that night like she’d hoped. And then the fractions of dream were gone in an instant. They were useless to her. She cleaned the bathroom impulsively, as if she were expecting someone. She met her own eyes in the mirror, thinking that she looked awfully pleasant that morning for someone who had endured such a boring night. She always liked how she looked in the morning: bright eyed and full faced, with her short red hair a complete mess. And she liked looking at her smile. It reminded her of the smile of a man she admired.

While she was in the kitchen getting her morning coffee, she entertained the idea of that man approaching her while her back was turned and saying, “Oh, good morning, honey!” mockingly.

And she would reply, “Hello, sweetie. Sleep well last night?” to surprise him, and then add that she had been expecting him. But she was utterly alone, except for the alarmingly fat cat that weaved between her legs, pleading for his breakfast. She soothed him with a scoop of food, and then left him to his business, settling herself on the sofa amongst her quilt and bed pillows and sipping her overly creamed coffee, thinking ‘This is no way to live,’ and laughing to herself.

She spent half an hour looking through a photo album. She vividly remembered the first time she had visited the ocean. The first time she had ever touched a seashell or seen a sunset reflected on the sea, giving everything a vivid orange glow. A life force. It reminded her of the first and only time she had fallen in love. Although she was only fifteen when it happened, she had in fact experienced love. It astounded her parents and friends that a mere child could feel so deeply, and then again she was not like everyone else. She was a woman encased in a young shell. A swan inside the duckling.

It bothered her that she never got to meet the woman who charmed her first love into marrying her. She was convinced that the woman was extremely likeable, but very introverted, much like Fay herself. On one occasion she had seen her hiding in the back of a crowded room, with a sweet, peaceful expression on her face. And then all her fears had died. She thought, 'He's a grown man. He doesn't need me to choose his wife for him,' and then her affection changed from a stormy, turbulent sky to a calm ocean, like the one in the photograph. It had been that way for more than two years, but recently those feelings had peered at her from just below the surface and threatened to rise again. Depression was just around the corner. It was standing only a few feet away. It was knocking at her door.

A knock on the door startled her.

Without peering out the curtains as usual, she opened the door. Through the window of the storm door stood the very man she had been expecting, wearing a sallow expression and a dark t-shirt that matched his sleek hair. His eyes were all but sleek. They were the eyes of a whipped dog, brown and mournful, and circled by soft redness. His features sagged, and at the same time his eyes seemed to be smiling at her in greeting. He was relieved by the sight of her, and she the sight of him. She returned his greeting and opened the door.

He stepped inside without a word, tripping in the doorway. He regained his balance quickly, and Fay closed the door behind him. Something was terribly wrong. He stood inside the narrow entryway, with his back to her. She invited him to sit. Fay sat beside him, took his left hand and caressed it, feeling his naked ring finger. The redness implied that it had been difficult to remove his wedding band. Removing his shoes was a similar struggle. She tugged gently at his left shoe, but it didn’t budge. He wouldn’t allow her to touch him.

“Don’t bother,” he said. “Don’t soil your hands. I’m very ugly.”

“You’re being ridiculous,” she replied, tugging harder. Eventually he gave in, and the shoe slid off his foot and onto the floor. “If you’re still the man I know, you’re not ugly.” He turned toward her, and they embraced each other. They both refused to let go. Fay caressed his back and leaned into his shoulder, trying her best not to cry for him, and then she leaned back and grasped both his hands. Without thinking, Yanda leaned closer and pulled her back into his embrace, touching her lips with his and kissing her tenderly. She responded by throwing her arms around his neck and accepting the gesture completely. He pecked at her lips several more times, and she pulled his head into her bosom when he had finished, holding him there and caressing him about the ears and neck. He held on tightly around her waist, and fell into her as she leaned back on the sofa.

He sobbed into her breast and she stroked him as if they belonged to each other, and still held him tight as he fell asleep. His body was heavy and warm. She cried silently when she realized that they would soon be separated. Their relationship was a waning candle. To him, she was his temporary tonic. A sweet girl he had noticed on the sidelines and taken for a ride to nowhere, only to turn back and leave her in his dust. And she said to herself, “This is no way to live.”