Marriage Is...
Rating; PG-rated, a little sad, a little tragic and a little hopeful.
Pairing; T/? and C/?.
Disclaimer; most of it is mine, but not all...
Reviews; always, any kind (flames, brownnosing, criticism, honest e.d) *ggg*
Special thanks to P&P for their support :)
Marriage is…
I watch as the couple leaves my office; his arm linked around her waist and her head resting comfortably on his shoulder. I regret seeing them go because that means that my day is over and I will have to return home soon.
They come here for pre-marital counseling, like so many couples before them. And I asked them a question I always ask each and every couple; “Marriage is?” The answers are often as varying as the personalities, but they all give the partners a good idea of what their soon-to-be spouse is expecting.
I have gone through the same before I got married and now, as I’m wandering through the streets on my way home, I wonder what has gone wrong between us.
My expectations, my dreams hadn’t been unreasonable, had they? What I wanted, what I needed at the time was simple; a companion, someone I loved and who loved me in return. I wished to maintain my position as counselor and to further my career. Children were something we both wanted but not yet. There was time.
Through the years I did further my career as did my husband. We lived and we loved together. I used to come home and find him waiting for me. He would wrap me in his strong arms and tell me about his day as I told him about mine. Each night I would yearn for his touch, not necessarily sexual, but just a physical confirmation of his presence to accompany the feel of his mind.
And I wonder what happened. I wonder where the time went.
“Marriage is companionship and love. It is honesty and passion; physical as well as emotional. I want a family some time in the future. Not now, not when the galaxy is in such turmoil, but I do want children. Some day, some time.”
But some day, some time never came. We grew apart and I didn’t even notice it until he’d drifted far out of my reach. We still live together and we still make love, but we don’t love anymore; not together. Once again the passion and the love have dwindled down to a strange sort of friendship and it’s slowly eating at me. Not because I regret what happened between us, or because I do still love him, but because I need more. I still want that family and I want to feel true love again. I want to experience it as it melts my heart and warms my blood. I want to scream with mindless passion again and make walks along the ocean until my legs can carry me no more and then I want him to tell me to sit down and wrap me in his arms.
We used to do all that and more, but now I hardly see him. Our careers take up a lot of our time and the time we do have each of us spends in solitude. All we share these days –when both of us are home- are meals and our bed. And it’s just not enough anymore.
I’ve thought about divorce and it scares me. It scares me because it means starting over again. It would mean abandoning the life I have and that is not an easy thing to do. And really, when it comes down to it, I’m not unhappy. I’m just not happy either.
Rounding the corner I see what I in reality already knew. He isn’t there. I hadn’t expected him to be there but I had hoped nonetheless. I want to talk. I need to talk, but there’s no one to talk to.
On the table in the dining lies a piece of paper and it isn’t hard to guess what’s on it, but I read it nonetheless. “Deanna, Starfleet needed me for an undercover mission. There was no time to say goodbye to you, I’m sure you understand. If all goes well I’ll be back in a week or two. Take care of yourself and remember I love you.” I take the note with me and put it with the others in a box under my bed. There is no surprise and hardly a trace of sadness. It just is.
I decide to forgo having dinner tonight. I’m not hungry at all and having dinner alone with my thoughts doesn’t seem too appealing. Thus instead I slip out of my clothes and take a quick shower. I’m not in the mood to groom and just drop onto the bed. Turning onto my side I am, as always, faced with a picture of Ian and a familiar pain stabs my heart. I still miss him, even more so now that Beverly keeps talking and talking about her little girl. I’m happy for her and her husband, honestly, but it reminds me of the children I don’t have.
It seems strange that, although we both adore children we don’t have any, but circumstances haven’t been favorable and to tell the truth, I gave up wishing for them a long time ago. It just hurts less this way. Everything hurts less when I don’t wish or hope.
Yes, everything hurts less…but it still hurts.
And I'm growing tired of the hurt and the loneliness, of having dinner alone, of watching other couples and sensing the love between them, only to find it absent in my own marriage.
I think, perhaps, it's time to change that. Perhaps a divorce isn’t such a bad idea. Perhaops starting over won’t be as scary as it seems. And maybe, just maybe, a family isn’t too much to ask after all...
<Finished>