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There is a strange tingling sensation in her arm as the sphygmomanometer tightens, it falls just short of painful but it gives her the distinct impression that she is trapped. Apparently she was not thinking clearly in the wake of learning that her husband’s grave had been desecrated, his body filleted, and that his untimely death is being viewed as a suspected homicide because submitting herself to a polygraph is both naive and dangerous. Her only thought had been of silencing any doubts that her children had and this had seemed like the simplest and most direct course to achieve that but now that she is strapped into her seat and there is no way to extricate herself from this situation without raising the very suspicion that she is trying to quell, she realises that there were a few important factors that she failed to consider. She has no doubt the lie detector will prove that she had nothing to do with Rex’s death and that it will let Andrew and Danielle know, with certainty, that she loved their father but she is not without her share of closeted skeletons and someone burdened with the secrets that she carries really should not have put herself in position where her thoughts would be scrutinised.
She wills her hands to stay still and tries to control her breathing while thoughts of the real crimes that she has committed flash though her mind. She may not be a murderer but she did cover one up in the kind of calm and calculating fashion that is never going to win her any sympathy from a jury. She has tampered with evidence, she has harboured a criminal and she has done these things with the absolute conviction that what she was doing was just but these aren’t her only sins. Her other crimes may pale in comparison but they are no less unforgivable and they are ongoing. She should be wrapped in a shroud of darkness, engulfed in a blanket of melancholy but she is bathed by a beacon of light. She tries to hide in the shadows but the light is bright and brilliant and stretches its fingers into even the most remote hiding places. It is not a comfort though, it is harsh and blinding, yet she can’t look away. The recently bereaved should not be drawn to such a light, they should be content to drown in their memories, they should not watch from their window as the source of the light deals with her family and moves on with her life.
She is so busy focusing on her body, on the sensations that will betray her – her rampaging heart beat, the sweat that is sluicing down her back – that she can barely concentrate on the questions that are being asked. She feels a sense of relief as she is given the chance to state, categorically, that she did not kill her husband but is completely blindsided by the questions about George. She cannot understand how the results can have contradicted her statements, she is a master at suppressing and ignoring her feelings but even she would be aware if she loved someone. She can’t possibly be in love with George, not when he hasn’t even entered her mind since Rex’s death. She wants her pain and guilt to be about Rex alone and while she knows that she hasn’t been able to achieve this, it’s not George who prevents her from focusing on Rex. Thoughts of George don’t flitter through her mind unbidden, she doesn’t dream about him and she doesn’t experience an overwhelming feeling of regret when she hears his name - those are all things that belong to the woman she is trying to excommunicate from her life even if she will never be able to exorcise her heart.
She is not so much bothered by the result as she is surprised. It doesn’t really matter to her though, she is starting to believe that love is highly overrated in the general sense but she knows for sure that her love is not a gift. Her affection is dangerous, it cuts and destroys, it is not some grand thing; it can’t be because it doesn’t do her or anyone else any good. Rex, Andrew, Danielle and Lynette have all been poisoned by her touch, all ruined simply because she loved them. Her love is a curse and if she choses to believe the defective machine, all it effectively means is that she has added another victim to her list. If she really does love George then she is even more of a monster than her crimes would suggest because she is willing to love him, to offer him to the jaws of her love in the hope that Lynette will be released from its destructive grasp.
Her plan seems sound, it will mean that Lynette will despise her but that one day, in the distant future, if Lynette learns to forgive her, they might be able to be friends again. Right at this moment she doesn’t have the utmost faith in her judgement and by the time she arrives home from convincing George to take a polygraph she is beginning to consider that this may not be the route that she should take, that she can’t bring him down with her, but then she pulls into her driveway and her eyes are drawn to the Scavo’s house with a magnetic force and she knows that she would happily sacrifice George in order to save Lynette.
Her children don’t answer when she calls out to them so she decides to partake in an aperitif and heads upstairs with the hope of spending a silent evening in the company of her misery. She opens her bedroom door to find Lynette sitting on her bed, doing a reasonable impression of a human ball and knows that the miserable portion of her night will not be difficult to achieve.
“How did you get in here?”
Lynette does not raise her head and her reply is muffled, “Danielle let me in and before you try to disown her, she didn’t do anything wrong, she still thinks that we are friends.”
“Aren’t we?”
“I don’t know, I don’t think so.”
She had realised that losing her was a risk when they started down the path of no return but it still hurts to hear the finality of the situation voiced out loud, “I know you are angry with me but I do want us to be friends.”
“You think that you can tell me that it’s over and that’s it, I suddenly flick some switch in my head and I can change how I feel about you and things can go back to the way they used to be?”
“I don’t expect this to be easy but it’s the right thing to do.”
Lynette makes eye contact but her stare is cold, “Right? You are going to preach to me about what is right?”
“I’m not trying to preach to you, I’m just trying to let you go back to Tom, back to your family, back to where you were meant to be.”
“I am not some kind of chattel.”
“Of course you’re not.”
“Yet you talk about me like I am something to be passed back and forth between the two of you”
“That’s not what I meant; I am trying to do what’s best for you.”
“I’m not a child, I get to decide what’s best for me and as much as I hate you right now, that happens to include you and not just as a friend.”
“I’m sorry but that is not a viable option.”
“Why? Because you say so?” she is becoming exasperated and she twists the bottom of her jeans in frustration.
“Because that is the way it has to be. This is killing me so please don’t make this harder than it already is.”
“Stop telling me what to do,” she continues to take her anger out on the hem of her pants.
“I’m not.”
“You do it all the time.”
“I do not,” she knows Lynette is angry but in addition to this, she appears to have lost all contact with reality.
“Yes you do, in your ever so polite, repressed, WASP way you are constantly telling me not to do things, ‘Don’t mock me’, ‘Don’t make fun of me’, ‘Don’t be mean to me’, sure you often preface it with a ‘Please’ but you are still trying to tell me what to do, trying to tell me not to be me. Is that what the real problem is, that I was fine as your little bit on the side but now that things have changed you don’t think I’m good enough for you?”
“Don’t be ridiculous.”
“Point in fact.”
“I love you,” she tries not to notice the hope in Lynette’s eyes and continues, “more than I should, more than I have any right to. I love everything about you. I don’t want you to change and I didn’t mean to be telling you what to do.”
“I don’t want to change you either, well at least not when you want to be with me, this whole wanting to send me back to the arms of my husband thing could use some work though.”
She is determined not to be drawn in by Lynette but it is proving exceedingly difficult, “Things are so messy and I can’t let you be a part of that.”
“Not even if I want to?”
“I would appreciate it if you didn’t pressure me.”
“Is that your way of trying to avoid telling me what to do?” there is a look on Lynette’s face that borders on a smirk.
“It was the best I could do.”
“It’s far from perfect but it’s a start.”
“It would really help if you weren’t so loveable right now.”
“At the risk of decreasing my lovableness I will point out that that was a little more like telling me what to do, still it pleases me that you are trying.”
“I can’t play like this with you, I don’t want to hurt you or tell you what to do but I need you to leave.”
Lynette doesn’t budge, “Am I so terrible to be around?”
“I’ve been honest about that, I can’t be near you, it hurts too much and besides you should probably be with your kids, they must miss you with the hours that you have been spending at work.”
She looks away and her voice is shaky, “You know how much time I’ve been spending at work?”
Bree choses to ignore the question and instead responds to the tone in Lynette’s voice, “Is there a problem with work? I thought it would make you happy.”
“It dulls the pain some,” the voice is stronger but her shoulders are quaking and though Bree knows it’s akin to dancing through land mines she joins Lynette on the bed.
“What’s wrong baby?” she asks as she completely fails to distance herself.
“I can’t believe you can ask me that when you have been busy battering my heart.”
“I meant what’s wrong at work?”
“Everything’s wrong, I am losing you, I’m hurting my kids, I am doing things at home and work that I am not at all proud of, I’m…” she stops mid sentence and stares at Bree intently, “I shouldn’t be telling you any of this, you’re not going to be able to be there for me anymore, you’re right, I should go.”
She should let her go, it’s better for both of them but as Lynette tries to leave, she pulls her back on to the bed, “I want to be there for you.”
Lynette doesn’t fight her, she just flops back onto the bed. “You really can’t, not if you are serious about this being over.”
“I realise I am not doing the best job of being clear on that matter right now,” she is lying on her side with her arm over Lynette’s stomach while her other hand strokes Lynette’s hair, “but I am serious.”
“I think I know that, I just wish that you could separate things and let go and be with me.”
“If I could do any of those things, I wouldn’t be me”
“And then I wouldn’t love you?”
“Maybe not.”
“Well that just sucks.”
“It really does,” Bree confirms.
“I hate that you can hold me in your arms and make me feel safe and loved while you break my heart.” She lets go of Lynette but that only causes Lynette to roll of top of her. “We should have done things so much sooner, I so should have had my way with you, I definitely should have made you scream and I should have told you so many things.” She places a kiss on her fingers and then touches those fingers to Bree’s lips, “I know it’s not the best time to tell you this but I really love you.” The words might have been enough to melt Bree’s resolve but Lynette takes it upon herself to leave after her announcement. As Bree stares at the ceiling she knows that she has to go ahead with her plan, Lynette is special and deserves to be spared so she will date George and Lynette will hate her and everyday she will die a little more inside but that will be a small price to pay for Lynette’s freedom.