No Time for Pretending by Rev. Anna

Written for KristenK2

Header and Author's Notes

Sharon frowned at herself in the bathroom mirror. She missed her hair. It was the one thing she had always liked about her appearance. Well, at least it was growing back in. If she didn't look too hard, she could almost pretend she didn't look like a female
Marine. Almost pretend she had gotten her hair cut by choice. Almost.

She came back into the room and sat on the bed, running her hand over the small suitcase at her side. She tried to remember what all was in it. The clothing she accumulated here during her rehab.
Little gifts friends had brought to make her surroundings more cheery. Tons of get well and thinking of you cards that she would have to respond to once she got home. If she didn't think too hard,
she could almost pretend she had just been on vacation. Almost pretend she was glad to be going home. Almost.

She looked at her hands and rubbed them against each other. If she didn't rub too hard, she could almost pretend she didn't miss having her wedding band on the third finger of her left hand. Almost pretend it even looked normal without it. Almost.

"You ready to go?"

She looked to the door and saw Walter standing there. She tried not to feel the grip of the knot in her stomach or the hard clot of tears wedged in her throat. She smiled and nodded at him. He smiled back and picked up her suitcase. If she didn't smile too hard, she could almost pretend nothing had ever gone wrong between them. Almost pretend this wasn't the beginning of the end for them. Almost.

He turned and offered his hand to her. She looked at it, but didn't take it.

"Thanks, I'm okay," she said, rising carefully from the bed. "I can do it."

"I know you can do it," he said, resting his hand briefly on her back before taking her hand anyway. "I want to hold your hand."

He took it and she didn't pull away. Her hand felt small in his. She thought she felt his fingers tremble and was surprised to feel his thumb rubbing the back of her hand, slowly going over the same spot again and again as if trying to memorize it. The massage annoyed her, reminding her of other times of touch and tenderness. Times she had to forget now.

She pulled her hand away. He didn't try to recapture it.

Waves good-bye and well-wishing from a nurse or two accompanied their trek down the hall. Sharon nodded her thanks and stepped into the elevator. Neither she nor Walter said a word as they descended to the parking level. Their silence continued. As she let him help her into his car, their argument from yesterday was still going on in her head.

"I'm picking you up."

"Oh Walter, don't be silly. You'd have to take a day off."

"I've been known to take a day off before."

"Please don't bother. I can go home in a cab alone. Really."

"Not in this life you won't."

"Okay then. I'll accept Andie's offer to come and get me."

"My cousin Andrea. Your co-worker."

"One in the same."

"Why don't you want me to pick you up?"

"I do want you to pick me up," she finally admitted.

"Then we're agreed. I'm picking you up. End of story. See you tomorrow."

Arguing anymore was pointless.

"See you tomorrow," she said.

The lump in her throat had kept the rest of the truth at bay: I do want you to pick me up, but it'll hurt too much to say goodbye. She went to sleep, determined to be gone before he got there. But he had come too early for that to happen. So here she was slipping into the passenger seat and buckling up as if this were just a normal end to a normal hospital stay.

But it wasn't. Months of rehab had only delayed what was started before her accident. Why pretend that anything was different? There was no time left for pretending.

"Why don't you rest your eyes? We'll be home in no time."

She nodded and leaned the seat back. Yes. Rest her eyes. Rest her mind. If she tried hard she could almost pretend that they really were going home. Almost pretend that he would stay. Almost.

She could almost pretend that the dream had been real. That he had told her he was refusing to sign the divorce papers, that she was his reason for waking up in the morning. She had dreamed it so many times after coming out of her coma. Now in this car with her eyes closed tight, she could almost pretend she wouldn't be alone. Almost believe that love forever was more than an inscription on a recently discarded wedding band. Almost.

"Sharon, are you all right?"

Her soft gasp had caught his attention. She nodded and turned her face from him so he couldn't see the tears.

She tried to focus on the scene outside her window. She saw couples laughing, kissing, walking hand in hand or -- in the case of the younger generation -- hip to hip. Lone men with flowers and heart-shaped candy boxes or red beribboned gift bags seemed to be
on every corner. There were tell-tale cupids and red hearts in store windows hawking everything from traditional bouquets to incredible edibles. One store window had a huge display of red and white doily
hearts surrounding a placard shouting "Happy Valentine's Day Kristen! I love you!"

"It's Valentine's day," she whispered.

Valentine's Day.

How ironic. It must certainly be a sign. Sharon closed her eyes and her heart, finally accepting the truth: dreams don't come true. Love doesn't last forever. Valentine's Day is just another sale day, just another lousy commercialized sale day. Those people out there just didn't know it yet.

She sighed and opened her eyes. She didn't recognize anything around her.

"Walter, where are we going? This isn't the way home."

"Yes it is," he answered.

Confused she looked at the area outside. If they were going home, he sure was taking the long way round. Saying good-bye was going to be hard enough. This tortuous route was only prolonging her agony. She winced at the thought of being with him one minute
longer than she had to be. She took a deep breath and called upon remembered anger and past indignations to arm herself for what needed to be said.

"Walter, I'm tired. I wanted to get home as quickly as possible."

"We're almost there."

"Almost where? We are a long way from home."

"Actually we're not."

The car turned a corner and descended into the parking garage of a luxury condominium. He pulled into a spot two levels down then turned off the engine.

"Walter, where have you taken me?"

"Home."

He undid his seat belt and turned to her.

"I live here now, Sharon. And so do you."

He pulled off his gloves and took her left hand in his left hand. She blinked, too late to keep a tear from falling as she caught sight of something small and gold on the third finger of his left hand. She
inclined her head and watched him place a familiar bnad of gold on the third finger of her left hand.

"I Walter, took thee Sharon to be my wedded wife, to have and to hold, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death us do part, according to God's holy ordinance; and thereto I pledged thee my faith."

Sharon could barely see for the tears in her eyes, but she saw all she needed to: the band of gold on his ring finger, the band of gold on hers, the love she had for him reflecting in his eyes as he gazed into hers, the lust she felt for him radiating from his lips as he brought her mouth to his.

The lump in her throat refused to budge. Her lips trembled, too weak to hold back her sob as his lips claimed hers. She closed her eyes and lost herself in the feel of that tongue filled kiss. If she let
herself, she could almost pretend that her tears were tears of joy. That Walter was crying too as he kissed her mouth, her face, her neck. Almost.

No! This was no time for pretending. Her tears were tears of joy and Walter was crying. She pulled back and gripped his arms.

"Oh Walter, am I -- are we really home?"

"Yes Sharon. We're really home. Happy Valentine's Day, dear."

She released her seat belt and pressed herself into his arms, renewing the kiss. She gloried in the feel of him against her here in the car. And in the elevator. And going up the stairs to the bedroom. And finally under the sheets before, during and after
making love. She snuggled against him as the warmth of their post-coital hug lulled her to sleep, dispelling all feelings except gratitude and joy. She drifted off, safe in the embrace of his loving arms, glad the time for pretending was over.

End