Buffy waited for William all day. The sun rose high in the sky and then fell beyond the horizon. The streets darkened and the kids in the neighbourhood abandoned their games for the comfort of home, but he didn’t return. Buffy knew better than to call him.
She knew he’d want to be alone. Finally, she went upstairs, lay on their bed and stared at the ceiling.
When she awoke it was pitch black. She glanced at the alarm clock. It was 4am. She heard the door open, the footsteps heavy on their steps. Buffy steeled herself as the door opened.
“Hi,” she whispered. Her husband just stared at her.
“Will,” she began.
“Still here are you?” William interrupted. Buffy winced at the hurt in his voice, the bitterness and anger. Buffy noticed how his eloquent tongue was stumbling over his words. He was blind stinking drunk.
“Where else would I be?” she whispered, standing up and coming closer to him.
“Thought you might have run off,” he said bitterly.
“Cashing in that two million dollar lottery ticket you have between your legs.”
Suddenly furious, Buffy hauled off and slapped him across the cheek. Hard enough for her hand to sting.
“How dare you say that,” she raged. “I would never…..”
“No?” William taunted. “Wouldn’t you? Never?”
“That,” Buffy said, trying to hold back her tears. “That’s different.”
William laughed then. An empty hollow laugh.
“Right,” he said. “Keep telling yourself that Summers. You just keep telling yourself that and maybe someday you’ll believe it.”
“You know it is,” Buffy pleaded. “You know it’s not like that.”
“Let me tell you what it looks like,” William said, hysteria creeping into his voice. “Girl meets bloke. Bloke takes care of girl. The world is sunshine and flowers and puppies.”
“Stop,” Buffy whispered, a tear rolling down her cheek. “Please.”
“Then the girl meets a much much much richer bloke. And when the sunshine is gone, the flowers are wilted and the puppies are dead, the girl chooses a much richer bloke,” William finished. “Am I close?”
“Don’t say that,” Buffy said, her voice breaking. “I’m not choosing him over you.”
“But you are,” William said, his eyes filled with tears. “You’re choosing him. Aren’t you?”
“For one night,” Buffy said, trying to make him understand. “A night that’ll come and go, but the money will last us a lifetime.”
“Sod the money,” William said stubbornly. “You’re not bloody well whoring yourself out.”
“We’re drowning Will,” Buffy begged. “Our house. Mom’s museum. We’re drowning. And I can save us.”
“It’s only things,” William said, grabbing a lamp. He threw it against the wall, and Buffy ducked as shards scattered everwhere. “It’s only bloody things Buffy. It’s not us.”
“It’s not only things,” Buffy screamed. “This is us. Mom’s museum is all I have left of her. Our house. We've built a life here. This is our life. I don’t want to lose our life.”
“And I don’t want to lose you,” William seethed. “Don’t you bloody understand? It’ll be the end of us.”
“Is my body the only thing you care about?” she added, bitterly. “The only thing you love?”
“How can you even say that?” he said, looking for all the world as if she’d hit him again. Exhausted now,
William slumped down into the corner of the bed.
Buffy approached him as she would a hand grenade.
“It wouldn’t mean anything,” she said softly, touching his shoulder. William turned his head away from her.
She knew he was crying. That he blamed himself.
“It’s not my heart Will,” Buffy whispered, touching his cheek, making him face her. “It’s not my soul. You’ll always have those.”
“Promise me,” William said, his voice heavy from drink, his eyes nearly closing. “That you’ll always be mine.”
God, Buffy thought. He sounded exhausted.
“I promise,” she soothed, as she brought his face down to her neck, then lay his body down.
“Will?” she said softly.
“I’ll always be yours,” she promised his sleeping form. “Always.”
When William awoke, he had a splitting headache.
“Hey,” he heard his wife say.
“Hey,’ he rasped. William looked around. The bedroom was askew, the covers thrown off, the paintings tilted, the remains of their night lamp scatterd on the floor.
And then last night came flooding back to him. The fight. The words he’d said. The way he’d behaved.
“Buffy,” he began.
“It’s okay,” she soothed, touching his chest, then resting her head against him. “It’s all okay.”
“I’m sorry,” he said finally.
“I’m sorry too,” Buffy said as he stroked her back with his fingers. Finally she looked up at him, cupping his chin in her hands.
“And thank you,” she said. Buffy planted a gentle kiss on his mouth, then turned away to begin cleaning up
the mess.
“For what?” William frowned.
“For last night,” Buffy said, looking back at him. He saw her search herself for the words. “For….for understanding.”
“Understanding?” William said.
“For understanding what I have to do,” Buffy said. “For saying….yes.”
William felt his heart stop. Yes? I said yes? No, that’s impossible. I would never say yes to that. Never. His eyes widened. He tried to rack his memory of last night. God, everything was so hazy.
William opened his mouth to argue, but then froze.
Did I say yes? God, could I have said yes? I was so drunk. No, I couldn’t have. William looked into Buffy’s eyes. She wouldn’t lie to him about this, would she? Not about this?
“I said yes?” William whispered. Buffy gave him just the hint of a nod, then turned around and bit her lip.
Guilt flooded her about the lie she’d just told. Buffy knew William would never agree to this. Not a million years. But she had to do this. For them.
He didn’t say no, Buffy reasoned with herself. That’s kind of a yes.
“We both agreed,” Buffy continued, keeping her voice carefully steady, as if she were discussing the weather. “We’ve slept with other people. We’d just
have to think of it that way.”
Finally, she turned back to look at him, having gained control of her emotions.
“Are we okay Will?” she asked. She could see the confusion and hurt writ large on his face, but also a desperation to get things back to normal.
“Yeah,” he rasped finally. “We’re okay.”
“I love you,” she said.
I’m sorry William. I’m so sorry.
“Yeah,” he said, looking away and sliding his legs over the side of the bed. Buffy waited for him to say it, but then accepted her fate. She got to her feet and lingered at the door, looking back. His shoulders were slumped and defeated. He was staring out the window with glazed eyes.
It’s just one night, Buffy reasoned with herself. We’ll move past it. And then we never have to worry about anything again. But a small part of her worried she’d just made a fatal mistake.
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Comment on this story please! I'll update the others when my muse hits me