Sunday on a Saturday Afternoon - 19/20
Previous Chapters: here
Title: Loneliness Can't Hide
Pairing: Alex/Addison
Rating: PG
Summary: Packed boxes, T.S. Eliot, and sitting.
A/N: I just want to thank you all for your ongoing patience with me. This term is kicking my ass in many ways, and sometimes my love for fandom wanes. Then I get the kick in the pants that I need, and am able to do something, and so that is what this is. I'm thankful for all you readers and reviewers, and am quite glad of those of you that are still around and haven't given up on me.
Loneliness Can’t Hide
Alex’s life was surprisingly compact. It fit into three large boxes and two small duffel bags. Each box was labeled in neatly with a black Sharpie in Addison’s handwriting. Books, Clothing, Miscellaneous. Each duffel bag had a tag attached to it with his name and address in Cincinnati. A plain white envelope sat on the kitchen table, and when Alex saw it, he knew Addison wasn’t going to be there to wish him good-bye.
Their last few months had been hard. The packing up of all the tiny clothing and little shows, the colorful toys and the bookcase carefully put together, all of those things put into a box and left out by the garbage can. Addison painted over the light green walls, returning them to the beige they had started as. She wore sweatpants and didn’t brush her hair. She washed off streaks of paint in the shower and didn’t answer Alex when he asked if she was okay.
Alex thought that things might get better once every reminder of the child they could not have was gone. Addison smiled a little more, bit her lip a little less. She was able to help pregnant women who thought it was a miracle that they were giving birth without the twinge of jealousy crossing her face. Alex didn’t know if she was feeling better, or if she was just better at masking her feelings.
It didn’t help that he was leaving. He stopped talking about the preparations he was making and the opportunities that awaited him because whenever he did, Addison became white-faced and tight-lipped. He saved his excitement for his coworkers, who couldn’t hide their happiness for him. He didn’t resent Addison, he understood. Two blows at once would be enough to take him out of the game and keep him in bed for a week. She managed to dress herself everyday and go to work without crying in front of the people she envied, and that made him admire her.
When she came home in the evening, everything about her screamed exhaustion; the way she dropped her bag on the table, the way she massaged her sore feet and left her shoes in disarray by the door. She would distractedly kiss Alex’s cheek as she headed towards their bedroom and change into a towel. He would follow her soon after with a book and rest his head on her shoulder as she turned the pages of a magazine. Silence reigned in their apartment.
One month before Alex was set to leave, Addison became animated once more. She peppered the quiet with anecdotes from work and offered stories of their coworkers. She would invite him into the shower with her or gently rub circles into his back late at night, murmuring soft words into his ear. When she came home from work she looked as fresh as though she’d just dry cleaned her clothes. Alex thought she was just trying to make him feel less guilty for leaving. Addison knew she was trying to convince herself she’d be all right when he was gone.
She started asking him questions about Children’s, making sure he knew where he was going to live when he got there, arranging for him to fly first class instead of coach. She talked about visiting him and if he’d have enough space for her to spend the night. He assured her he would. She would look up interesting facts about his new hospital and quiz him about them, laughing when he knew the answer, because it showed how much he cared about this job. Alex didn’t realize how much he missed the sound of her low laugh.
Packing his things had been hard; it was so reminiscent of the earlier task of the baby things. Addison hid whatever she felt, bravely soldiering forth and sorting out his possessions from her own. She brought home big enough boxes and promised to mail them, that he wouldn’t have to worry about anything except catching the right plane. Her sharp, bold handwriting stood out on the cardboard boxes, and Alex knew that he would keep them as reminders of her long after he’d unpacked.
On their last night together, Addison rented Die Hard and brought home cheeseburgers. She rested her feet in his lap and looped an arm around his shoulder. If she was feeling anything about him leaving, she said nothing, just wiped the dripping grease from his chin with her finger.
Late that night, when her quiet breaths were blowing strands of red hair about, he watched her sleep, the calm emanating from her made his nerves settle. She curled into his body and he wrapped himself around her, wishing that he could promise never to let go. When he woke in the morning, she was gone, her imprint still in the sheets, her smell still in the air. The three boxes sat in the living room, the envelope on the table.
He waited until the last possible minute, hoping that she would come through the door with a hug and a kiss and a promise that they would make it work, that she was sorry she’d left in the morning, and that she’d never love anyone the way she loved him. It didn’t happen and he left, shouldering a duffel bag, leaving his keys on the table where the envelope had been.
He was silent as the cab drove him to the airport. He quietly offered the woman at the counter his ID and his ticket. She smiled and he couldn’t bring himself to return the favor. Buying a Coke and M&Ms at a newspaper stand, he looked around at all the people moving back and forth and stood still in the sea of change.
She didn’t come to say goodbye at the airport, there was no dramatic calling for them to hold the plane. Their relationship ended not with a bang, but with a whimper, and Alex had never thought T.S. Eliot would be the poet to describe his life, but there it was. He felt the weight of the envelope in his pocket and touched it every few minutes, as though he needed a reminder of what had been.
---
Addison returned to her apartment - it was her apartment now - and knew that he was gone. It felt empty in a way that it hadn’t before, even when he wasn’t around. She saw his keys on the table, and knew Alex had left. She sat on the floor, opened the box marked ‘Clothing,’ and smelled the shirt on top, reveling in the preserved odor. She held the shirt to her, ignoring the phone when it rang, the alarm clock from her bedroom, and the sounds coming from the outside world. She sat, still.
[ Chapter Twenty]
Title: Loneliness Can't Hide
Pairing: Alex/Addison
Rating: PG
Summary: Packed boxes, T.S. Eliot, and sitting.
A/N: I just want to thank you all for your ongoing patience with me. This term is kicking my ass in many ways, and sometimes my love for fandom wanes. Then I get the kick in the pants that I need, and am able to do something, and so that is what this is. I'm thankful for all you readers and reviewers, and am quite glad of those of you that are still around and haven't given up on me.
Loneliness Can’t Hide
Alex’s life was surprisingly compact. It fit into three large boxes and two small duffel bags. Each box was labeled in neatly with a black Sharpie in Addison’s handwriting. Books, Clothing, Miscellaneous. Each duffel bag had a tag attached to it with his name and address in Cincinnati. A plain white envelope sat on the kitchen table, and when Alex saw it, he knew Addison wasn’t going to be there to wish him good-bye.
Their last few months had been hard. The packing up of all the tiny clothing and little shows, the colorful toys and the bookcase carefully put together, all of those things put into a box and left out by the garbage can. Addison painted over the light green walls, returning them to the beige they had started as. She wore sweatpants and didn’t brush her hair. She washed off streaks of paint in the shower and didn’t answer Alex when he asked if she was okay.
Alex thought that things might get better once every reminder of the child they could not have was gone. Addison smiled a little more, bit her lip a little less. She was able to help pregnant women who thought it was a miracle that they were giving birth without the twinge of jealousy crossing her face. Alex didn’t know if she was feeling better, or if she was just better at masking her feelings.
It didn’t help that he was leaving. He stopped talking about the preparations he was making and the opportunities that awaited him because whenever he did, Addison became white-faced and tight-lipped. He saved his excitement for his coworkers, who couldn’t hide their happiness for him. He didn’t resent Addison, he understood. Two blows at once would be enough to take him out of the game and keep him in bed for a week. She managed to dress herself everyday and go to work without crying in front of the people she envied, and that made him admire her.
When she came home in the evening, everything about her screamed exhaustion; the way she dropped her bag on the table, the way she massaged her sore feet and left her shoes in disarray by the door. She would distractedly kiss Alex’s cheek as she headed towards their bedroom and change into a towel. He would follow her soon after with a book and rest his head on her shoulder as she turned the pages of a magazine. Silence reigned in their apartment.
One month before Alex was set to leave, Addison became animated once more. She peppered the quiet with anecdotes from work and offered stories of their coworkers. She would invite him into the shower with her or gently rub circles into his back late at night, murmuring soft words into his ear. When she came home from work she looked as fresh as though she’d just dry cleaned her clothes. Alex thought she was just trying to make him feel less guilty for leaving. Addison knew she was trying to convince herself she’d be all right when he was gone.
She started asking him questions about Children’s, making sure he knew where he was going to live when he got there, arranging for him to fly first class instead of coach. She talked about visiting him and if he’d have enough space for her to spend the night. He assured her he would. She would look up interesting facts about his new hospital and quiz him about them, laughing when he knew the answer, because it showed how much he cared about this job. Alex didn’t realize how much he missed the sound of her low laugh.
Packing his things had been hard; it was so reminiscent of the earlier task of the baby things. Addison hid whatever she felt, bravely soldiering forth and sorting out his possessions from her own. She brought home big enough boxes and promised to mail them, that he wouldn’t have to worry about anything except catching the right plane. Her sharp, bold handwriting stood out on the cardboard boxes, and Alex knew that he would keep them as reminders of her long after he’d unpacked.
On their last night together, Addison rented Die Hard and brought home cheeseburgers. She rested her feet in his lap and looped an arm around his shoulder. If she was feeling anything about him leaving, she said nothing, just wiped the dripping grease from his chin with her finger.
Late that night, when her quiet breaths were blowing strands of red hair about, he watched her sleep, the calm emanating from her made his nerves settle. She curled into his body and he wrapped himself around her, wishing that he could promise never to let go. When he woke in the morning, she was gone, her imprint still in the sheets, her smell still in the air. The three boxes sat in the living room, the envelope on the table.
He waited until the last possible minute, hoping that she would come through the door with a hug and a kiss and a promise that they would make it work, that she was sorry she’d left in the morning, and that she’d never love anyone the way she loved him. It didn’t happen and he left, shouldering a duffel bag, leaving his keys on the table where the envelope had been.
He was silent as the cab drove him to the airport. He quietly offered the woman at the counter his ID and his ticket. She smiled and he couldn’t bring himself to return the favor. Buying a Coke and M&Ms at a newspaper stand, he looked around at all the people moving back and forth and stood still in the sea of change.
She didn’t come to say goodbye at the airport, there was no dramatic calling for them to hold the plane. Their relationship ended not with a bang, but with a whimper, and Alex had never thought T.S. Eliot would be the poet to describe his life, but there it was. He felt the weight of the envelope in his pocket and touched it every few minutes, as though he needed a reminder of what had been.
---
Addison returned to her apartment - it was her apartment now - and knew that he was gone. It felt empty in a way that it hadn’t before, even when he wasn’t around. She saw his keys on the table, and knew Alex had left. She sat on the floor, opened the box marked ‘Clothing,’ and smelled the shirt on top, reveling in the preserved odor. She held the shirt to her, ignoring the phone when it rang, the alarm clock from her bedroom, and the sounds coming from the outside world. She sat, still.
[ Chapter Twenty]