The Murrays were a problem to Charles for so many reason. The first, they could seemingly see through all of his feigned politeness. As if they knew it was for show. They didn’t fall for the same tricks the others did, rejected any help he had offered and closed him off from any opportunities he had to get close. It only further convinced him that they had something to hide - something interesting. Nobody tried so hard to protect themselves if it wasn’t to keep a secret, and certainly nobody did that for anything boring. In all their efforts to ditch his persistent curiosity, they had only made the intrigue greater. This of course in turn only made his advances towards the couple stronger. It was a cycle, one that they might forever be stuck in if Charles didn’t get his way.
It seemed that he was making progress, all too happy to put in the extra work of carrying the grocery bags Yasmine handed to him for the promise of being let in - to her home, to her life. The things he did for a little gossip. He walked to the kitchen, his eyes not so subtly scanning the surrounding area. He’d never been privy to the Murray’s home, and anybody he asked had been no help. Clearly they kept mostly to themselves. It felt like a moment of triumph as he placed the bags on the counter, his hands reaching in to unload them. If it could buy him a couple of extra minutes, he would unload their stupid groceries. Except that it didn’t seem as though he needed the excuse, Yasmine was offering him to stay.
“Oh I couldn’t,” He said despite closing the door as instructed and moving to take a seat. Clearly he could, and he was going to, he was just hoping to appear humble for a second. “It’s really not necessary.” And yet he reached for the offered glass. His eyes widened slightly at the news, clearly he hadn’t been expecting that - both her pregnancy and her willingness to tell him. “Should you be drinking that?” He asked without thinking, his brow furrowing as he thought of everything he knew of pregnancy - which granted wasn’t a lot. Coffee and wine were definitely on the no list, that alone made him question why any woman would subject herself to nine months of pregnancy. He listened, his ears catching the slip and consequentially raising an eyebrow, but he remained silent for some time. Until she was ready. “I’m sure you have no need to worry, your husband doesn’t seem like the type to step out on you,” A lie, he knew next to nothing about Adrian Murray, but he was determined to keep her opening up, “And as for Rose, well I mostly knew her through my sister-in-law, but I doubt there was anything shady going on.” Except that Rose, who had always seemed perfectly happy to anybody you asked on the lane, had killed herself. So really, how well had any of them known her?
Finally, finally… it was like a weight had been lifted as she uttered the words that had hung around her neck like an albatross. Finally someone else knew that wasn’t her OBGYN or her husband. Adrian hadn’t been fazed, despite their initial determination to finally get her off any contraceptives and really try to conceive after Josiah’s passing. Once they’d determined enough time had passed, neither of them figured they’d have the luck to expand their family, anyway. She’d struggled tremendously the first-time around, enduring miscarriage after miscarriage, then false positives and even hormonal therapy before they’d been blessed with the miracle of their son. As luck would have it, it was only when they’d given up and stopped trying that she’d become pregnant with Josiah. Every day for the next four years of his short-lived life would be the happiest of the Murray’s lives before...now. It’d been two years since his passing and time seemingly stood completely still. Adrian and Yasmine didn’t live, only existed.
She poured both glasses modestly, leaving the bottle near Charles before setting his glass before him. His question startled her as he piqued interest in her well-being, showing a little more empathy towards her condition than her own damn husband did at hearing the news. She laughed dryly, taking the first sip between them from her wine glass. “A glass or two, actually, is unharmful. Trust me.” She was a registered nurse for a living, and a retired combat medic. Once her neighbors learned another ‘medical professional’ had moved onto the lane, people often approached her with their weird rashes or random aches and asked for a diagnosis. She often referred them to the only other doctor on the lane she knew, Dr. Rhodes, if she was unable to treat her neighbors. “I asked a few of the doctors I work with just to be sure,” she reaffirmed, reminding him of her expertise. “But thank you for the concern.” The silence that followed suit was filled with what was left unsaid. At least you are concerned. My husband doesn’t give a shit.
“I appreciate that, Charles. I’m glad the lane seems to think he’s so… noble. And loyal. And I’m just the nagging, cold-hearted, bitch-of-a-wife who doesn’t deserve him.” That’s what surely everyone around them thought. Adrian was often seen training anyone capable of keeping up with his rigorous work-out routines. He was also handy with any tool in his hand and helped suburban widows or housewives with busy husbands fix just about anything because Adrian Murray was miraculously good at anything and everything, especially at putting up a front. They both had to be good at feigning happiness after losing their son, but when it came to hiding his emotions, even Adrian seemed to one-up Yasmine. Still, no one saw who he’d become behind closed doors lately. In sickness and in health, for better or for worse, she’d vowed, but what category did Adrian’s infidelity fall under? Or his aversion to her pregnancy? Or how he’d started becoming aggressive and physical with her? She swallowed the mass in her throat, hearing her phone go off with the ringtone exclusive to her husband, but she didn’t move to answer it. Instead, she polished off what was left in her glass and silently offered him a refill.
Yas wanted desperately to fill in the missing pieces in the story that Charles didn’t know, such as their son’s death and how she even met Adrian to begin with, so that maybe he’d understand her a little better. But their late son didn’t deserve to be the lane’s latest topic of gossip, for nothing on Wisteria stayed secret for long. How the Murray’s had managed to keep most of their lives private at all over the last year and a half was beyond her. “Maybe it wasn’t Rose, but it’s someone. There is someone else. He doesn’t even bother hiding it as well as he used to. At least he used to shower before getting into bed with me on his late nights in. Now he lets that whore’s perfume join us in bed.” She nervously played with her wedding rings, eyes filled to the brims with tears she tried to blink away. No one on the lane had ever seen her cry and Charles wasn’t about to be the first. “Look, you must be so busy. I’m sorry I pulled you from...just, I’m sorry. I probably look like any other pathetic housewife in this area. We’re all cheated on. It’s like a rite of passage for us married women in order to live in the suburbs -- lose our husbands to homewrecking skanks. Hah.” She coldly poured herself a third glass before realizing she’d nearly finished the bottle on her own. “Shall I open another?”
pixelskylines
stormborns
andulkaphoto
snowghoul
turnnoffyourmind
tangentwithtanner
