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Sarah lay, an arm draped over the side of the couch, flipping channels. They all blurred into the next- she wasn’t really watching anything.
It was another gloomy Thursday night. As per usual, Alex was working overtime. She’d finished everything she had to do hours ago and was trying to do anything she could to distract herself.
She was hoping something would pique her interest. She'd been doing this long enough that she couldn't remember what she'd originally wanted to watch.
The screen changed, again. It was bright, colourful. Green grass. Blue skies. Beams of sun in the background. The vibrancy of it was so much she had to squint, her eyes taking a moment to adjust in the darkness.
It was an ad for a luxury substance use disorder rehab center a couple of cities over. It flashed from shots of the facility’s various amenities to clips of people claiming to be years sober running through fields, smiling and laughing.
“Find your strength! Reclaim your life.”
Sarah tossed the remote to her side, straightening her previously relaxed posture as she removed her glasses from her face, folding them before resting them on the coffee table at her side. She didn’t care what show came on after- it was all just background noise.
Harold.
She hadn't thought about him in a while.
Or maybe she had. She couldn't remember.
It’d been a couple of years since he’d died. That fucking idiot. A while after their argument following graduation, he shot too much of a bad batch of something up his arm and that was it. No apology, no reconciliation, nothing.
Apparently he’d been getting sober, too- According to Jessie, at least. Not like Sarah could’ve asked him herself.
She slid her wedding ring off her finger, stroking the smooth metal and flipping it between her index and her thumb, staring straight forward.
She didn’t want to think about Harold.
She stared at the screen.
The commercial break was over- she hadn’t even noticed.
She hadn't mourned Harold in years.
That wasn't the problem.
She mourned the version of him she'd spent years believing existed. It was the future she'd wasted years hoping for.
With the upcoming first anniversary of her and Alex’s marriage, she knew they’d need to start.. ‘trying’.. soon. As much as she wanted to forget that part of their arrangement.
She knew before they were even engaged this would come up. He’d given her plenty of warnings; that was all he needed from her, after all. She’d tried to mentally prepare herself to be intimate again. She thought she could make it through, but thinking of Harold now- she might as well be a teenager again.
“Look, Spencer. I’m not a fag, okay? This is just, like, casual, man. I thought we both agreed it meant nothing. You pretend to be Jessie, and in return you get a totally awesome fuck!- And I let you hit my bong. I don’t know why you need to complicate this shit, Sarah.”
Complicate. God, after all these years, it still struck a nerve. Telling her she was ‘complicating’ things for caring. For loving him. Because somehow, someway, she did. Maybe it was because he’d been her closest friend. He could talk and talk for hours without her feeling pressured to respond, and she liked that.
Maybe she envied the certainty he seemed to have in his own masculinity. Harold was undeniably masculine- in.. not-so-pleasant ways.. but still, masculine. Like he’d never have to think about it. She hated herself a little for being jealous of that, even knowing the kind of man he was.
She looked down at her ring now, still turning it over and over.
She thought back to before that. To the sex they’d had. He’d practically begged her to let him “hit it”, as he’d said. Of course, she made him practice some much-needed hygiene prior, but she agreed. Because he wanted this. He wanted this, so she did too.
It was okay, at first. Not good, but okay. He pretended like he knew what he was doing, despite them both being inexperienced. Everything was fine. Peachy even. She would try to shut her mind off for a few minutes, and by then, it’d be over.
But then, as Harold did, he fucked it all up.
“..fuck- Sarah.. Do you think-uh-you could.. do that im…pression… you did of Jessie that one time and- say my name?”
God, how stupid had she been? Of course this was all so Harold could have a Jessie fill-in. He hadn’t said it outright at first, not up until then, but she should’ve known better. Sarah and Jessie don’t have the same anatomy by any means, but clearly that detail was irrelevant to him.
After that, despite how awful she felt, she agreed again. And again. It was pathetic, really. It’s like she thought maybe, just maybe, he’d realize he was enjoying this because he loved her. Not Jessie. That’s what she had wanted him to realize, at least. She knew it was untrue- But even if he didn’t think about her, he wanted her. He loved Jessie, but he wanted her. And she thought she liked being wanted.
Since their first time, he got pushier and pushier. And it felt disgusting. The last time they had sex- before Sarah told him how she really felt- was the worst. She wanted it to stop. Anything to make him stop.
But frankly, by that point, she was afraid of saying no to him.
“Harold- that hurts. please.. You’re hurting me.”
“Just… let me have this.”
And so she endured.
All for some lame-ass sex.
She laughed. She didn’t remember starting to cry, but tears had already wet her cheeks.
Because despite everything, look who was still alive. She wouldn’t be, if not for-
Alex.
Alex is everything Harold was not. Alex is.. well… respectable, quiet, reserved… intelligent, attractive, hardworking..
She could go on; in her mind, atleast. She’d never gush about him in ways she genuinely felt to anybody.
To be honest, she also got nervous around him; But not in the same way. With Harold, she was afraid to upset him- she wasn’t sure what he’d do then- but with Alex, she’d never admit it, of course- but maybe she wanted to win him over. She’d seen cracks in his… heavily guarded wall.
The one time, not too long ago, it was cold and gloomy out. She was having a rough day- so she’d gone to sit on the stairs leading up to their entryway. Alex came out, bringing her a hot chocolate, and they sat there for an hour. Maybe two. She didn’t really know- she’d lost track of time. The silence was awkward at first, but it faded into something.. comforting. Eventually, she’d fallen asleep leaning against him- and he hoisted her up, carrying her to her bed. She’d never tell, but she was jolted awake by being picked up- she’s good at pretending to be asleep, she supposes.
She let her body relax again- slightly. Enough to feel comfortable. Her mind continued to replay memories she’d made in the past year, her original distress on the back burner.
Another time, leaving an event, they weren’t expecting it to storm- and she was by no means dressed for the cold rain. Alex had, without asking, taken off his blazer and placed it over her shoulders before stepping into the downpour himself. She called out to him, in her typical fashion, not wanting other people to go out of their way for her.
“Alex, come back! You’re going to freeze.”
He’d turned around, flashing a smile at her. “…I’m already wet.”
Even daily. Things he’d let slip in German sometimes. Of course, he wasn’t aware she was learning German and could pick up on some of the words he’d mutter in passing. She’d never let him know she understands. There’s something strangely heartwarming about hearing him muttering under his breath in a language he assumes she doesn’t know. It makes him seem less like the perfectly composed man she’d built him up to be in her head. Knowing what he says in those fleeting moments is genuine makes it all the more endearing, if you ask her.
She slid her wedding ring back on before pulling her long sleeves down to wipe her tears as she smiled to herself.
After Harold had rejected her, she thought she could never love another person again. Maybe she thought she deserved the treatment he was giving her- she’d have never thought someone who claimed to want a wife who wouldn’t demand affection could be a better lover than someone who seemed so desperate for it.
With her ring back on, a perfect fit on her finger, she looked down at the polished metal again.
The front door clicked open.
She jumped, hastily wiping her face again.
“Hey, Spencer. I’m home.”
For a second, she considered pretending everything was fine. Like she usually did.
“uhh.. Alex-?”
“Yes?”
“..can you.. maybe.. come sit with me for a while?”
And he did. He sat beside her. Without question.
And before she could overthink it, she leaned against him.
Alex stiffened for only a moment.
Then, almost awkwardly, he shifted closer so she wasn't half-falling off his shoulder anymore.
The television continued playing.
Neither of them watched.
Neither of them moved away.
“It was a long day.” Alex said after a moment, softly, his voice a low rumble that she felt through her shoulder more than she heard with her ears.
“Yeah,” Sarah whispered, her voice still thick. “For me, too.”
She felt him turn his head slightly. He didn’t ask what was wrong. He didn’t demand an explanation for the tears he had probably seen.
He shifted his arm, lifting it just enough to drape it over the back of the couch behind her. He didn’t touch her-not yet-but the offer was there, if she wanted it.
“Du siehst müde aus.” he muttered, so quietly it was almost inaudible.
Sarah closed her eyes. She knew enough German now to understand what he was saying, even if she had to string it together.
“Alex?” she asked, her voice trembling.
“Yes, Spencer?”
She hated the name Spencer sometimes- she thought it’d be easier to just move on. Pretend like that piece of her didn’t exist, because this was her life now.
But hearing Alex say it- how secretly seen it made her feel- overpowered that discomfort.
“Do you ever… regret it? Asking me, of all people..?”
The air in the room seemed to still. On the TV, another commercial break started, blue light flickering across Alex’s face. He was quiet for so long she thought he might not answer at all.
“I’m a man of my word.” He said finally, his tone formal, yet there was a fraying edge to it. “But I’ve never looked at you and felt regret. I hope you know that.”
He let his hand drop then, his fingers grazing the sweater slipping off her shoulder. It was a light touch, barely there, but it felt grounding. It felt warm.
Unlike Harold, who had used his hands to mold her into someone else for his own pleasure, Alex’s touch felt like he was simply acknowledging she was there.
She thought about ‘trying’ soon. The thought usually sent a spike of dread through her system, a physical reaction to the memory of being hurt- being used. But looking at Alex, someone who’d sworn their whole relationship would just be nothing more than means of continuing on the bloodline, who was here sitting in the dark with her, she had hope things could be different for her.
Better.
Sarah relished the warmth, her head sliding down to rest on his collarbone. Not moving closer, not backing up, but settling in. She inhaled deeply.
“…I’m glad you’re home.”