Words and meanings.
He thinks that if he concentrates his mind carefully, he can still recall the way that his brow had creased and he’d rubbed profusely at the back of his neck on that fateful day so long ago. His first wife had been standing in the doorway with one hand balanced precariously on her hip and a glossy tabloid magazine clutched tightly in the other.
“What’s that?” He’d asked as if the answer wasn’t quite so obvious. He’d known of course. They all had. It was only really a matter of time.
She’d slipped her fingers between the spine of the chronicle and the body of work that held his life’s most daring achievement and started to make her demands a little clearer.
“Page ten,” she fumed, thumbing her way through the colour and carnage, “Apparently, you like to gamble, Chris.”
He was sure he could have guessed.
She stood up straight and held her head high as the pages came to life before him, the bold print was little more than he could really ignore.
Christopher Meloni. TV’s Silver Fox.
His eyes had skimmed the page until the name stuck out at him like a billboard, promoting the latest range of, well, of anything ambiguous.
You and Mariska[Hargitay] have been close for a long time, is there any truth in the rumours that you’re having an affair off screen?
There is was, in black and white. Of course he’d told them no, though his heart had screamed yes, tell them now, just get it all out in the open. He couldn’t do that. There were too many bridges to be burnt, too many innocent parties.
So he shook his head and swallowed thickly at the cost of his next answer.
She’s been like a second wife to me. We just sort of clicked, we figured out a long time ago how the other operates. She’s my best friend.
Liar. LIAR. His conscience had rattled his bones and he’d experienced that ache deep within his chest, the betrayal that struck like the Devil’s pitchfork, like a red hot fucking poker.
The article continued on.
The two of you were seen leaving the Raddison together last week. Can you explain that for us?
He’d wanted to tell them that he’d quite happily fucked her to within an inch of her life and then when they were done, he’d lathered her up and soaped her down and they’d done it again, on the bed, bent over the mini bar, on the floor, hell, even on the window sill where the world could have seen them.
Work commitments. Sometimes it’s too late to drive.
He’d agonized over whether or not they’d brought it. He vaguely remembers that night, with the exception of his children; she’d always conjured the memories within him.
He was starting to see how this might be getting slightly out of hand.
Sources say that the two of you have been looking cozy on the set of your new season of SVU. I believe there was a kiss involved?
Had they really been that stupid? Had they really expected not to get caught out?
We’re jokers. It was a gag.
He was drowning with no hope of recovery. He was going down quickly, at this rate he’d be confirming their assumptions and fucking it up for all of them. Though the fans might have been happy.
His answers had been getting shorter, his pauses, longer. He’d choked the on the first few questions, until they’d really dropped the winner.
How do you feel about Mariska’s recent separation from her husband,[co-star] Peter Hermann?
His wife had filed for divorce the very next day.
When they’d asked what he’d wanted for his fiftieth, he’d told them that he already had everything he’d ever wanted. When Mariska had announced her high risk pregnancy only two months later he knew he was done for.
He’d been her throughout the bed rest and the morning sickness. And when their daughter had finally entered the world two months early and clinging to life he’d been a mess thinking they were going to lose her.
It was funny how perfect his love had become.
“You and mum were so hot for each other, it makes me ill.”
“Hmm,” he turns his head back to the television just in time to see himself fade from view and the credits roll across the screen.
His daughter sighs and shakes her head. “You were doing it again Daddy, you were thinking, weren’t you?”
“Yeah, you got me,” he relents, trying not to smirk too loud.
“Daddy,” the fifteen year old leans her head on his shoulder and reaches for the remote, changing the channel and yawning as she looks at the time.
“You might be bald, and you might be old, but I still love you.”
The smile on the other side of the entertainment room door is something they could do without, just this once.
“What’s that?” He’d asked as if the answer wasn’t quite so obvious. He’d known of course. They all had. It was only really a matter of time.
She’d slipped her fingers between the spine of the chronicle and the body of work that held his life’s most daring achievement and started to make her demands a little clearer.
“Page ten,” she fumed, thumbing her way through the colour and carnage, “Apparently, you like to gamble, Chris.”
He was sure he could have guessed.
She stood up straight and held her head high as the pages came to life before him, the bold print was little more than he could really ignore.
Christopher Meloni. TV’s Silver Fox.
His eyes had skimmed the page until the name stuck out at him like a billboard, promoting the latest range of, well, of anything ambiguous.
You and Mariska[Hargitay] have been close for a long time, is there any truth in the rumours that you’re having an affair off screen?
There is was, in black and white. Of course he’d told them no, though his heart had screamed yes, tell them now, just get it all out in the open. He couldn’t do that. There were too many bridges to be burnt, too many innocent parties.
So he shook his head and swallowed thickly at the cost of his next answer.
She’s been like a second wife to me. We just sort of clicked, we figured out a long time ago how the other operates. She’s my best friend.
Liar. LIAR. His conscience had rattled his bones and he’d experienced that ache deep within his chest, the betrayal that struck like the Devil’s pitchfork, like a red hot fucking poker.
The article continued on.
The two of you were seen leaving the Raddison together last week. Can you explain that for us?
He’d wanted to tell them that he’d quite happily fucked her to within an inch of her life and then when they were done, he’d lathered her up and soaped her down and they’d done it again, on the bed, bent over the mini bar, on the floor, hell, even on the window sill where the world could have seen them.
Work commitments. Sometimes it’s too late to drive.
He’d agonized over whether or not they’d brought it. He vaguely remembers that night, with the exception of his children; she’d always conjured the memories within him.
He was starting to see how this might be getting slightly out of hand.
Sources say that the two of you have been looking cozy on the set of your new season of SVU. I believe there was a kiss involved?
Had they really been that stupid? Had they really expected not to get caught out?
We’re jokers. It was a gag.
He was drowning with no hope of recovery. He was going down quickly, at this rate he’d be confirming their assumptions and fucking it up for all of them. Though the fans might have been happy.
His answers had been getting shorter, his pauses, longer. He’d choked the on the first few questions, until they’d really dropped the winner.
How do you feel about Mariska’s recent separation from her husband,[co-star] Peter Hermann?
His wife had filed for divorce the very next day.
When they’d asked what he’d wanted for his fiftieth, he’d told them that he already had everything he’d ever wanted. When Mariska had announced her high risk pregnancy only two months later he knew he was done for.
He’d been her throughout the bed rest and the morning sickness. And when their daughter had finally entered the world two months early and clinging to life he’d been a mess thinking they were going to lose her.
It was funny how perfect his love had become.
“You and mum were so hot for each other, it makes me ill.”
“Hmm,” he turns his head back to the television just in time to see himself fade from view and the credits roll across the screen.
His daughter sighs and shakes her head. “You were doing it again Daddy, you were thinking, weren’t you?”
“Yeah, you got me,” he relents, trying not to smirk too loud.
“Daddy,” the fifteen year old leans her head on his shoulder and reaches for the remote, changing the channel and yawning as she looks at the time.
“You might be bald, and you might be old, but I still love you.”
The smile on the other side of the entertainment room door is something they could do without, just this once.