cloudcdsanity:
It started off like any other typical Thursday morning in Fairview . Alice Chamberlain dropped off her dry cleaning before snagging HER USUAL at the quaint little coffee shop across the street on her way to work . She was an art teacher for the inspired youth with rooted interests in coloring the world with their imagination . She would teach , she would instruct , then she would go home until she did it all over again the next day . A pattern that hadn’t been broken for … five years now . That is , until — this very day , something OUT OF HER ORDINARY transpired . The rattling of bells alerted those in line that a new customer had entered the establishment — that she , an average nobody , yearned for a cup of coffee just like everyone else ( and maybe a banana nut muffin too ) ; but instead , she received something else entirely . Her resting smile faltered as she could only blink and breathe — FROZEN IN PLACE as steaming liquid coated the bottoms of her heels . The wine had played a deceitful role in her confession , causing barriers to fracture just as liquid courage seeped through her veins . Mary Alice should be happy - she had everything she ever wanted now ( except the one her heart yearned for the most ) . She just wanted to see if any of it was real … Before either of them registered what was happening , lips were locked and breaths were strangled . Moans and whimpers married together to create a delicious harmony that left the housewives trembling with the unbridled desire to continue ; to fall into forbidden waters and drown in each other in waves of fleeting bliss . But headlights in the nearby window stopped them cold in their tracks — Paul and Zach had come home early from a movie she couldn’t quite remember the name of now . And Mary Alice’s final words to that redhead still frequented her mind even to this very day . “ Get out of here , Bree . Please — just leave ! ” And the very next day , as her world started falling apart — one more extra push caused MARY ALICE YOUNG to be no more . She had left her family , her home , her friends , her heart , in Wisteria Lane due to the unfortunate circumstances brought on by one obnoxiously nosy neighbor . Alice had been extremely careful with hiding in plain sight ; especially during those first few years . Over time , IT GOT EASIER . The stress of being recognized diminishing little by little until she was certain she was in the clear ; that those who knew her once upon a time had long since moved on from those chapters where she played a part in their story . But now — what was she to do ? RUN ? DENY ? CRY ? Eyes were on them , whispers soon followed and then came a hand reaching out to grasp her ; a touch she nearly denied had her mind processed it a second sooner . A sharp inhale was taken before she put on her bravest smile ( one that Mary Alice had sported far too many times to count ) . “ I – I think , perhaps we should … ” Talk ? Was that wise ? No , NO IT WASN’T . But when the s e n a t o r calls her out in such a blatant fashion , there’s no way to claw out of that corner . Clearing her throat , Alice clasped her hand over Bree’s while dropping her gaze ( to keep the well of tears at bay ) . “ Come — come with me , darling . ” She had to remain strong , vigilant – c o m p o s e d . “ It seems we are OVERDUE for a reunion . ”
ONE BY ONE THE FLOWERS IN MARY ALICE’S GARDEN HAD WITHERED, and with each petal that fell to its demise against the soil that had once nurtured it, a fragment of your light was stolen. again and again, until you, like the once fruitful yard adjacent to your own, became dreary and dull. life had run on autopilot for so long - an array of tasks to complete each day for husband, children, the house. the script in which your lead your life gone undisrupted until the day you moved onto that lane, when you set eyes on her. the infatuation had started out innocent enough, with a desire to impress, to bring forth a smile to her lips. wildly it had grown into something far more detrimental for your sanity. her eyes becoming the first you seek out in a crowded room - look at me, look at me, look at me - a silent prayer, desperate to draw her attention, her acknowledgement. for years this had continued : stolen glances, fingers meeting at hand offs, hips brushing unnecessarily past one another. often left wondering if it was only you who incited these touches. all until that night. you still haven’t decided if that marked the day you fell from grace, or when you finally had practiced the purest form of devotion.
HOW LONG CAN A PRECIOUS MEMORY BE NURSED ? at what point will it no longer spark a chemical reaction of emotions, ranging from sorrow to elation ? she has kept them bottled up all this time, and the cork is starting to erode, causing ribcage to shatter against lungs. that night had been branded into her thoughts, and she was cursed with the inability to stop its reenactment every night she laid her head to rest. she can still feel the warm breath against her cheeks, see the dilation of arousal in mary alice’s eyes, and taste the red tang of wine against her tongue. it is that millisecond that she often replays, when what they had just done hadn’t properly registered - before logic has finally come to reclaim them. in that moment, bree remembers thinking that for the first time in her entire adult life ‘ this is what happiness is supposed to feel like ’. she almost let these words escape, almost gutted herself to spill the words that had been swallowed for so long ... just leave ! its shrill cry rings in her ears. it is then that the fantasy ends, and she is left with nothing but grief and a damp pillowcase.
THE PRESSURE OF HER HAND IS PLEASURABLE, proving that this is not a figment of her imagination, and it takes every ounce of restraint to not turn palm over into it. the mature, rich warmth of her voice lulls bree’s racing heart, and soothes her panicked breaths. lips are parted, eager to respond, but she finds herself mute - only manage to nod in agreement. i would go anywhere with you, i would follow you to the ends of the earth.
