Scenes from a Marriage (24)
Scenes from a Marriage
24, Karen/Bill, PG-13.
Scenes from a Marriage
"When did you know?" she asks.
Washington is cold, and leaving California took everything she had. Her last cell phone bill cost more than their wedding.
"When did you--"
"Right away. The moment I saw you."
She laughs. "Liar." She hears him walk upstairs, hardwood creaking. "Was this before or after I put you in handcuffs?"
"Well, that's when I realized some additional things." She hears the smile in his voice and can't help but smile back. She won't be distracted.
"Bill, when did you know?" Her fingers press absently against her lips. She misses the weight of him, the curve of his throat against her cheek.
"When you said yes." The line crackles as he moves around. "I didn't dare--"
He stops. The city swims outside her window, streetlights and sirens as far as the eye can see. She imagines the stars clear and bright above him.
"I love you," she says, into the silence.
**
Places they've had phone sex: His office, her office. His house, her apartment. He caught her in traffic once, and she trusted in the tint of her windows and the tilt of her knee to keep her out of the tabloids. Or jail.
It's not even the sex. It's the sound he makes, she misses that. It's worse somehow, afterwards. Not being able to fall back into him, not being able press her mouth into his hair. The sharp snap of the cell phone as it closes shut. Her tired fingers and empty hands.
**
"Hi," she yawns into the phone.
He hates to wake her, she knows this, but between their jobs and the different time zones they're not left with much. She keeps her cell on the pillow next to her so she can answer it before he changes his mind.
"Karen? Were you sleeping? I'm so sorry." His voice is cracked and tired. "It's just… I've been missing you all day."
"Who is this?" she teases.
He laughs. It's going to be okay.
**
"When did you know?" he asks.
The sun is coming up. They'd promised each other they wouldn't do this anymore. Both of their jobs require their full attention.
"God, I have to be at work in two hours." She sits up in her bed, thinks about running water for a bath. "You're in so much trouble."
"Alright." He doesn't sound sorry. "I should let you go."
Neither of them move, his breathing steady against her ear. She could listen to it forever. Light is spilling through the window. It's so easy to be in love.
"I didn't want to leave, and I knew.” She shifts back onto the bed. “All those hours, all that chaos, and I didn't even want to go back to my hotel. And now I can't hang up the phone. Go figure."
It hurts again. Three thousand miles of dirt.
"I love you," he says, and she wants to hear it over and over and over.
24, Karen/Bill, PG-13.
Scenes from a Marriage
"When did you know?" she asks.
Washington is cold, and leaving California took everything she had. Her last cell phone bill cost more than their wedding.
"When did you--"
"Right away. The moment I saw you."
She laughs. "Liar." She hears him walk upstairs, hardwood creaking. "Was this before or after I put you in handcuffs?"
"Well, that's when I realized some additional things." She hears the smile in his voice and can't help but smile back. She won't be distracted.
"Bill, when did you know?" Her fingers press absently against her lips. She misses the weight of him, the curve of his throat against her cheek.
"When you said yes." The line crackles as he moves around. "I didn't dare--"
He stops. The city swims outside her window, streetlights and sirens as far as the eye can see. She imagines the stars clear and bright above him.
"I love you," she says, into the silence.
**
Places they've had phone sex: His office, her office. His house, her apartment. He caught her in traffic once, and she trusted in the tint of her windows and the tilt of her knee to keep her out of the tabloids. Or jail.
It's not even the sex. It's the sound he makes, she misses that. It's worse somehow, afterwards. Not being able to fall back into him, not being able press her mouth into his hair. The sharp snap of the cell phone as it closes shut. Her tired fingers and empty hands.
**
"Hi," she yawns into the phone.
He hates to wake her, she knows this, but between their jobs and the different time zones they're not left with much. She keeps her cell on the pillow next to her so she can answer it before he changes his mind.
"Karen? Were you sleeping? I'm so sorry." His voice is cracked and tired. "It's just… I've been missing you all day."
"Who is this?" she teases.
He laughs. It's going to be okay.
**
"When did you know?" he asks.
The sun is coming up. They'd promised each other they wouldn't do this anymore. Both of their jobs require their full attention.
"God, I have to be at work in two hours." She sits up in her bed, thinks about running water for a bath. "You're in so much trouble."
"Alright." He doesn't sound sorry. "I should let you go."
Neither of them move, his breathing steady against her ear. She could listen to it forever. Light is spilling through the window. It's so easy to be in love.
"I didn't want to leave, and I knew.” She shifts back onto the bed. “All those hours, all that chaos, and I didn't even want to go back to my hotel. And now I can't hang up the phone. Go figure."
It hurts again. Three thousand miles of dirt.
"I love you," he says, and she wants to hear it over and over and over.