Post by thelori24 on Dec 3, 2016 5:25:22 GMT
Ian just needed to not be in that house any longer. He was reaching his limit sooner and sooner with each terrible, stressful passing day. Not all that long ago it had seemed the solution that, after many late nights and tears and soul-searching, seemed the right answer. He wasn't happy here, he wasn't happy in his marriage...but he suspected he wouldn't really be happy anywhere or with anyone. More importantly...Amanda wasn't happy. She never said it, she never took it out on him, she'd always been that much of a sweet, generous, loving person, since they'd first become friends as children. But he knew her well enough...and he knew. She wasn't happy, and he didn't know how to make that better. He loved her...of course he did. How could you not love your best friend? But he didn't love her the way she deserved to be, the way a husband should their wife. And she didn't deserve to deal with everything he'd dragged back from the war either.
She cycled between sad and angry and confused and resigned. So did he. It seemed to be their families who struggled with it more. Her mother called him horrible names. His mother cried and pleaded. His father yelled and swore. He didn't even live there anymore, cycling between his sibling's houses, a few friend's houses, occasionally motel rooms until this could reach some sort of resolution...he didn't bother to get his own apartment, because he suspected he wasn't going to stay in New York once this was finished. His life was burning wreckage, nothing could stop that now...he just wanted to leave as little damage behind in his wake as possible. Amanda and Sol deserved that much at least.
He sat in his car in front of the house, working his way through his third cigarette in a row, head tilted back and staring blankly up at the roof of the car. When had that tear gotten in the upholstery, drifted through his mind, a weirdly superficial thought to go along with everything else in his head. He didn't even know where he was going from here...but he should go somewhere before the damned nosy neighbors started staring and inventing even more new gossip about him and his family's situation.
She cycled between sad and angry and confused and resigned. So did he. It seemed to be their families who struggled with it more. Her mother called him horrible names. His mother cried and pleaded. His father yelled and swore. He didn't even live there anymore, cycling between his sibling's houses, a few friend's houses, occasionally motel rooms until this could reach some sort of resolution...he didn't bother to get his own apartment, because he suspected he wasn't going to stay in New York once this was finished. His life was burning wreckage, nothing could stop that now...he just wanted to leave as little damage behind in his wake as possible. Amanda and Sol deserved that much at least.
He sat in his car in front of the house, working his way through his third cigarette in a row, head tilted back and staring blankly up at the roof of the car. When had that tear gotten in the upholstery, drifted through his mind, a weirdly superficial thought to go along with everything else in his head. He didn't even know where he was going from here...but he should go somewhere before the damned nosy neighbors started staring and inventing even more new gossip about him and his family's situation.
