There were several boundaries that must be laid out. None she approved of, most she would forget about in less than a week. As long as there are some then she could have the slightest control over this. And she needed that small taste of control. If she could get a hold on him again, just like before, then she’d get what she wanted. She wanted him, only him -- to her standards, to be who she wanted him to be. He didn’t have to change but if there was a way to go back in time....
Noticing the change in his expression - or was it a change at all? - made her realize that her boundaries held no real substance in this place. Even with a list of them, she wouldn’t convince him. Nothing felt right, nothing seemed to work. And, unlike everyone else, he expected her to pick up her share of the slack. Maybe she had boundaries but she’d be made to live up to them too. This wouldn’t work out if it’s one-sided.
Elizabeth sighed, lowering her head to regain her train of thoughts. Boundaries would lead to limitations, and she hated confinement more than anything. But Peter would expect her to live up to her end. It wouldn’t matter much to him, would it?, if she felt as if suffocating in this place, with him? Only him -- that’s who she would end up living for. Her set boundaries and rules and expectations would make sure of that.
She just wasn’t ready for that commitment. Then why was she standing before him, in the very place she sought to own, with nothing between them except for -- for what? What was it they had? Sometimes she forgot. Even while looking at him, she forgot. There were no reminders. There was nothing. Loving him felt the same as hating him and she couldn’t understand why. Was it because of her husband? But she’d never loved that sorry bastard anyway. Or she never loved Peter at all, playing at a child’s game to escape the dreariness of her life. She didn’t know which one it could be.
But there’d been a time when she did love him. Something like that, no matter how small, couldn’t be forgotten. And with him looking at her now, expecting an answer, expecting her to say at least one word. No, she wanted to tell him, all of this is a lie except for us and what we had. And it could be revived again -- couldn’t it? Besides, it wasn’t so terribly dead.
She wanted to reach out for him but thought he’d push her away. She wanted to fall against him, make him hold her for at least one last time. Instead, she stood in place, exhaled a sigh then shook her head. It seemed like the right thing to do, as if pushing him away would convince him to chase after her. She wondered if Peter was done chasing, if he’d grown bored over this short span of time. Waiting and waiting -- that was all either of them did anymore. They’d have to do some more waiting too.
“You don’t own me,” she said instead of suggested. And she was serious, adding this to her list of boundaries. “And I can come and go as I please. There’s nothing you can do that’ll stop me. I want this, Peter. You give it to me or I leave.”
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jacobvanloon
2087
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