Unrequited

Unforgettable - 1999

John walked into the house to find it quiet and still. Where was Arianna? Her car was in the drive, so she had to be in the house. He walked to the sliding glass doors, peering into the backyard. No, she wasn't out there, either. Maybe she was taking a nap. She had been exhausted as of late. He wandered back the hall, and as he got closer to their bedroom, he could hear faint music. A few steps closer, and he realized it was his music, or music from his band anyway. He pushed open the partially open door into their room.

"What are you doing, love?" he asked as he walked into the room, finding Arianna sitting on the floor, surrounded by papers and books. When he glanced up at the TV, he saw Duran Duran, looking very young, on stage and performing one of their songs. What was she doing?

"Feeling nostalgic, are we?" he teased as he carefully stepped over the strewn items to make his way to the bed.

Arianna barely even acknowledged him as she was staring at the picture in some book about the band. He sat on the edge of the bed and watched the scenes on the TV, somehow stunned by how young and ambitious he had once looked. It seemed so long ago, and it was all over.

Arianna finally looked up at him, and at once, he saw the pain on her face. Her eyes were full of tears, and his stomach sank. Thinking this far back in their past was not a good place for her. He had been terrible to her then, a very dark time. But in the now, he had to draw her out. He needed to get her talking, or whatever she was feeling would fester.

"What are you thinking?" he asked cautiously, steeling himself for the lash of her tongue.

Their past sometimes made her angry in the present. She closed the book and put it on the pile beside her. Then she got up from the floor and stretched herself before stepping over things to sit next to him on the edge of the bed. He turned towards her, and she weakly smiled at him, a tear slipping down her cheek. He reached up and gently wiped it away with his thumb.

"Why do you do this to yourself?" he asked, worried about her mental state.

"Can't escape the past, honey. So, I just face it,"  she explained, making him shake his head.

That was therapy talk. Yes, his antics in the past had made her need therapy. Damn it! Why was I so cruel to her then? he thought angrily at himself.

"I can't stand to see you like this," he lamented.

"Now," she answered pointedly, and it felt like a slap.

Oh, he had been one rotten bastard to her so many times. He had reduced her to tears like this so many times. Why had she allowed him back in her life then? Why had she married him? Was it because she knew that it hadn't been the real him? That it was his 'evil side' caused by the drugs and the drink? He knew that was true, as did she, but he had inflicted such deep, horrible pain on her. The pain he wasn't sure would ever truly heal.

"How about if you put all this away, and I will take you out for dinner?" he offered. She looked at him for a moment as if she was studying him, then smiled and nodded in agreement.

He watched as she shuffled all the magazines, books, and loose pages into a plastic container, which she then lifted and slid into the back of her closet. He thought about taking that whole container and dumping it or burning it, but he knew that would break her heart as well. Even if there was sadness, it was still their past; his with the band and hers wound around him.

He then stood as she walked back to him, accepting her as she threw her arms around his neck, hugging him tight and sighing loudly as she settled against him. She was starting to let go of whatever had troubled her and was slowly coming back to him in the present. After a few more moments of squeezing him, she pulled back, looked into his eyes as she caressed his cheek, and gently kissed his lips.

"Do you know how much I love you?" she asked, and he playfully scoffed, followed by a wide grin.

"Enough to let me play with Neurotic Outsiders again," he teased, and she raised her eyebrows, nodding.

"That is dangerous. Jonesy is a terrible influence," she retorted, making him laugh and hug her tight.

He knew she sometimes had a hard time believing they were together, but so did he. Not because she was a famous clothing designer but because he had broken her heart too many times. He sometimes thought she was a glutton for punishment because she kept on taking him back, but then he would realize that it was just proof of one thing. It proved how much she loved him and for how long. He had been the shit for all those years, not her.

As they walked out to their car, he could tell she was still a bit melancholy. He certainly didn't want it to be a pall over their night out. Soon enough, the kids would return from their sleepover, so they would no longer be alone. He wanted to have every opportunity to spoil and pamper Arianna how he had always wanted to and really should have all those years before. He felt like he still had a lot to make up for, but no matter how much he did right in the present, he could never make up for all the wrongs in the past. They slid into their seats, and as John started the car, he let his thoughts out of his mind.

"So, what started this gloominess today?" he asked gently.

She looked over at him, shock written all over her face. He knew her well enough to know that something from their past had weighed on her mind and that it always made her down.

"I was thinking about our fight last night," she confessed, putting her head down. He sighed, wading in.

"Couple fight sometimes, sweetheart," he countered, trying to be patient with her. He owed her that much. She simply nodded.

"Maybe I had hoped that we had fought enough in the past, that we wouldn't have to do it now,"  she offered, smiling weakly at him.

He looked over at her, feeling sorrow for her pain. He wished that he could erase that part of her memory so that they could be happy. Their past was the 'elephant in the room,' and if they didn't clear it out, it would destroy their marriage.

"It was really what I called you that triggered the whole thought process," she added, making him laugh.

"A jerk?" he chuckled. "That's tame, love. I've been called a lot worse, and I believe by you on several occasions," he teased and watched her face relax a little as she giggled. Maybe she was starting to snap out of it. But then her face sobered again, and he knew the melancholy would hang around a bit longer.

"Do you know how many times I've called you that?" she asked, looking over at him with those sad, sad eyes.

"Too many times to count," he retorted as the memory of a fourteen-year-old Arianna telling him he was a jerk played in his mind.

He lightly chuckled and reached for her hand. She smiled as she intertwined her fingers with his, and he hoped she would be okay. He hoped that they would be okay.