The Saturdays Drabbles

somebody else's life

ғʀᴏʟᴜɴᴀ
ғᴀɴғɪᴄ ᴘʀᴏᴍᴘᴛ: Something had to give. Someone was giving up, and another was giving in.

   "Here you are, dear," Una cooed, handing Ben a sippy cup of juice. Her husband accepted with a 'thank you' and began to murmur sweetly to their little redhead daughter in his large arms, handing her the drink and holding her in the crook of his elbow as he reclined across the sofa. It was getting on in the night, and Aoife was being particularly troublesome with getting to sleep tonight. Ben opted to stay out in the living room with the little girl to see if he could will her to sleep, and so that Una could get a good night's rest up in their bedroom. Bending to place a gentle kiss to the rugby star's lips, Una gazed down at her perfect little family with a small, fond smile.

   The moment was interrupted. There was a series of rapid, sharp knocks at their front door. Aoife lifted her little head, still drinking from her cup but clearly as curious as her parents as to who could be at their door this late. Glancing at the watch on her wrist, Una put a hand out to motion for Ben to stay where he laid, walking briskly for the front door so that she wouldn't keep whoever it was waiting. Unlocking and twisting the handle, she swung it open to the most heart-breaking sight she could ever bear to witness.

   A soft drizzle had begun that evening and had yet to stop apparently. Mollie's blonde locks hung a bit damp and limp around her broken face, eyes red and swollen from tears that still fell and had caused her mascara to smudge. She was on the verge of surrending, Una could feel it, could hear it. There were choked sobs, the sort that ripped through one's chest painfully. She would know. Sniffling, hands shaking as they wrung together, Una felt a mixture of emotions overcome her, all too familiar and overwhelming.

   "Frankie," Mollie sobbed jaggedly.

   That's all Una needed to hear.

   Taking the blonde by the shoulder, she tugged her inside and out of the rain, right into her arms. The door snapped shut. Unable to move from the spot, Una wrapped her arms around the shorter woman, her expression reflecting all the concern and hurt she felt as Mollie jerk in her arms, muffled cries coming from the dip of her shoulder into neck. Her hands were folded up between them and against her mouth, trying to stifle the sounds of her crying, but it was futile. The woman in the redhead's arms was falling apart at the seams. And every time she did, she unraveled Una as well.

   Swallowing, Una pulled Mollie away, wiping at tear-tracks and black makeup. There was nothing she could say. They were well past the point of talking. Many break downs ago. Every time, Una would hold Mollie until she fell asleep, allowing her to ride off on words of comfort and promise that tomrrow would be different, that Frankie would come to her senses and take Mollie back. Yet, time after time, there would be a month or two of happiness and clarity, Una having though their old Mollie was back, and then there would be a repeat of Mollie pouring her heart out against Una's chest as Frankie had once again rejected the blonde for whatever excuse she found then. Now there was no point. Every time would be the same. Una's words had become empty. Even if she tried, it would do no good in aiding Mollie. She knew now. It had happened too many times and everything had lost its meaning. All that remained for Una to do was just be there.

   A bit of her senses caught on and she looked over her shoulder to see Ben in the shadows of the entryway to their living room. Aoife was nearly asleep in his arms, clutching her sippy cup to her chest, lolled against his massive shoulder. The look on the man's face was just as torn as Una's. Though he never knew the reasons and was never allowed to help, he still cared deeply for the Saturday and could only watch in helplessness. Nodding emphatically, he turned slowly, retreating to the living room and out of sight. Una slipped her arm down around Mollie's waist— feeling her damp top and noting how Mollie had forgotten to don a coat— and wordlessly guided her to the stairs of her home and upwards.