Work Text:
The shame about being married is that no matter how much you may argue during the day, at night you always have to sleep in the same bed. Or at least that’s what Charles thinks as he readies himself for the night.
Ruth is sitting on the side of their bed and avoiding his gaze. She’s been doing so all day, after that screaming match they’d had earlier. He remembers having to ask Edith to clean up the remains of the vase Elvira had shattered. He’d told her that it had gotten knocked over on accident. He doubts that she believed him.
“You really should tell Elvira to leave,” Ruth says suddenly. Her voice is delicate, but he can hear the still-simmering anger underneath. Goodness, women and their grudges. “She’s ruined our house.”
“Edith’s cleaned up the vase, dear—”
“I didn’t mean it in that sense. We were so happy.”
“Are we? Happy, I mean.”
Ruth finally turns to face him, but it feels like she’s looking right through him. As if he’s the ghost, rather than Elvira. “I said were, Charles. You’re a writer, surely you can keep your tenses straight.”
She turns back to her side of the bed. Neither of them speak for the rest of the night.
saidbyyouthough Thu 17 Oct 2024 10:14PM UTC
Comment Actions
Trialia Wed 18 Dec 2024 02:09PM UTC
Comment Actions