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Everything I've Known	By : SolusNemo Category: Singers/Bands/Musicians > MEST Views: 1114 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. I do not know the members of MEST. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 10
- 11
Eleven: Verse Chorus Verse

And if you save yourself, you will make him happy
He’ll keep you in a jar, and you’ll think you’re happy
He’ll give you breather holes, and you’ll think you’re happy
He’ll cover you with grass, and you’ll think you’re happy.

The leather of the sofa squeaked as Matt sat down, relaxing into the piece of furniture and staring forward. He sighed, realizing that he’d have to help his cousin clean up the mess he made. “You’re a slob, Tone.”

The blonde shrugged. “You love me anyway, admit it.”

“Yeah.”

“You’re still worked up about Abigail?”

Matt frowned. “I just worry, I can’t help it.”

“Worrying means you care. She’s a great girl, Matt, and this is coming from me.”

“What if something happens, though? She’s been thinking about leaving, it doesn’t take a rocket scientist to realize that, but what if Brennan goes psycho on her?”

Tony laughed softly. “She’s going to be okay. She’s a tough chick, remember that.”

“It’s just…Do you remember that vase we broke when we were 7 and 11? I tried to glue it together so your mom wouldn’t freak out, but there was one piece missing. We looked all over, but we just couldn’t find it and we ended up being grounded for a week for breaking it and trying to lie about it.”

“You’re going into a metaphor, aren’t you?”

“Abigail is that missing piece. After years of searching, I’ve finally found her. She completes me.”

-

Abigail opened the apartment door and slipped inside, shutting and locking the door behind her, and hung up her coat and hand bag. The house smelt strongly of lilacs, quickly giving her a headache, and a constant rumble from the bathroom indicated that the tub was filling up. This only happened on “special” occasions, so either Brennan forgot that their anniversary was three weeks ago or he had slept with another coworker recently. Abigail took her time getting to the bathroom. She began to slowly look around the loft, trying to figure out precisely when everything went wrong.

The hardwood floor creaked as she walked to the fireplace, her shoes heavy against the old wood planks. Framed pictures ran the length of the mantle piece, colored still-frames of lies and confusion. In the black frame closest to her, Abigail looked at herself and Brennan holding her sister’s then six month old son…

The baby giggled up at Abigail, showing a toothless smile and blue eyes crinkling. His tiny hand was wrapped around his aunt’s right index finger, no signs of letting go.

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you, Mikey?” Abigail asked. “Wearing a teeny welding helmet and gloves, helping me in my shop? Of course, we’re going to have to wait until you can walk before you can do all that. Maybe by the time you’re my age you’ll be more famous than Da Vinci! Yes. ‘Mikey Guido a master welder and artist. Mr. Da Vinci has nothing on this little guy.’” She laughed and rocked her nephew in her arms, knowing that she’d never push him to follow in her footsteps. “Or maybe you’d want to be a football player or teacher?”

Brennan stayed rigid beside Abigail. “He doesn’t know what he wants to be. He can’t even speak yet, I bet he doesn’t even know what a football player is!”

“Yes he does. You’re a regular football nut, aren’t you?”

Mikey cooed.

“Even if you have no idea what I’m talking about, I love you more than the sun. Whether your mom likes it or not, I’m going to spoil you rotten,” Abigail stated.

“No you’re not!” Victoria protested. “I’d like my son an apple and not a lemon, please. I have no objection to spoiling him a little bit, but not rotten. Now, Brennan, get in the picture and try not to grimace this time. Mikey doesn’t have a flesh eating disease.”

After that day, Abigail usually went to visit Mike herself unless it was a holiday. Brennan, if he had to come along, usually stayed in a different room than the children and conversed with the adults or took walks around the block. She never missed him, not when she could play with the kids or the pets. Brennan hated animals as well, which sat worse with Abigail than his issues with children.

At one point Abigail wanted to be a vet. She had had animals around her the majority of her life, almost splitting the house at the seams. When she and Brennan had married and moved into the apartment, she had brought along her Irish Setter named Gretchen. Brennan had put up with her for two years before she had gotten arthritis with her old age. Abigail had trusted Gretchen’s care with Brennan while she was away in Los Angeles for an art showing. When she had returned, Brennan had put Gretchen to sleep.

But that wasn’t what ended the marriage, then again it could have been over before it even began…

Brennan sat Abigail down on a bench by the park lake. “It’s really humid out, I hope it doesn’t rain,” he murmured.

Abigail shrugged, indifferent to the current weather. She looked out at the water and put her hand on Brennan’s knee as he sat down. “Swans. They mate for life, you know, and if one dies the other either dies of heart break or stays alive for the babies.”

“Strange.”

“I think it’s rather beautiful, but that’s just me.”

“They’re stupid animals with brains no bigger than a soda can, how do they even know which swan is theirs? They all look the same.”

Abigail sighed. “Humans are animals too, and swans are birds. Birds are in a class of their own.”

“So? They still look the same. I bet that mating for life thing isn’t really true. They’re so stupid they probably have eighty different mates a week.”

“To them each swan is a different as every human, they know who’s who.”

They sat in silence for what seemed like three hours until Brennan pulled something out of his jacket pocket. He held up the diamond engagement ring. “Here. If you don’t like it give it back.”

Without wanting to think about anything else, Abigail turned and went into the bedroom. She got a suitcase from the closet and began packing her clothes, not catching the attention of Brennan until she finished and went into the bathroom for her toiletries. “Before you even ask, I’m leaving and I won’t be coming back this time.” She gathered her tooth brush and tooth paste and went back into the bedroom, throwing the items in the black suitcase.

“Leaving? What do you mean ‘you’re leaving’?” Brennan asked in a shrill voice, following Abigail like a shadow after shutting of the running water in the tub.

Abigail snapped the container closed. “Leave: to go away from, depart, desert, abandon.”

“But why? Why the fuck are you leaving?”

“Because I’m in love with someone else,” Abigail said bluntly. “I’ve been having an affair since that blonde woman you’ve been banging came by with the flowers.”

“An affair?”

“You know what they say, an eye for an eye.”

“After all our years together, after all those speeches about commitment and faithfullness—which are complete bullshit now—you’re going to run off with some chump because you think he’s better than I am?” He screamed, face growing red with anger.

Even in her weakest moments Abigail had reflexes like a cat. Right now she was finally thankful for that. Her right arm shot up and her hand wrapped tightly around Brennan’s wrist, staying his first mere inches from her face. “You hit me and I break your face, that I can guarantee.” Her left hand was tense, ready to stop Brennan’s other fist.

“You honestly think that that loser is going to stay by your side, that he won’t turn around and break your fucking heart? He doesn’t love you,” Brennan said calmly, pulling his wrist out of his wife’s grip and putting his arms by his sides. “This isn’t going to end like some fairy tale, you’re going to be miserable. Your priorities are all screwed up, Abs, and you know it. You love me not him.”

She shook her head. “I don’t love you, never have, I just thought I loved you. I thought that you were the man for me even after all those times you cheated on me, that because you were the only man who ever gave me the time of day back in school you were it. You’re not that, Brennan. We were never meant to be together, I was just a stupid, troubled child who assumed that there was no one else in the world other than you.”

“Don’t think you can ever come back to me.”

“Won’t even dream about coming back,” Abigail replied, trying to get her wedding ring off. “And for God’s sake—” she went into the bathroom, dipped her hand in the soapy water in the tub and tugged the gold band from her finger, “—I wear a size seven not a six.” With the rings off, she threw them at Brennan’s feet.

“You don’t want to do this, Abs.”

She picked up her suitcase. “It’s Abigail. My name is Ab-i-gail. My divorce lawyer will be calling you soon.” Hurrying to the front door, she grabbed her coat and hand bag. Unlocking the door, she threw it open and left the apartment for good.

-

Abigail tapped the countertop with her fingers, waiting for the man behind the desk to finish her search.

“I’m sorry, but it looks like we don’t have any seats left on the flight. I can get you on the 5:45PM flight, but you’ll have to switch planes in San Diego.”

“That won’t work. I need to be on this flight. I have a guy driving a UHaul from Rhode Island to Chicago who drives like a freaking madman. I have to get there before him or the whole thing is ruined.”

“Even if there was a seat available and I got you a ticket, you’d have to go over 14 gates and check your luggage in ten minutes, now nine. It’s impossible.”

Abigail ran a hand through her hair. “Nothing is impossible. Are there any other flights than this one?”

“No, I’m sorry, they all left.”

“Keep checking. There has to be something, someone could have given up their seat by now on that flight.”

“You’d need a miracle for that to happen by now,” The man replied, but checked the database again to make sure. “Southwest. Nonstop from here to Chicago Midway. Someone in coach left for a better seat on another flight, I can get you on there if that’s all right.”

Abigail handed him her credit card. “It’s better than nothing.”

The man printed out the ticket and handed it to her along with her credit card. “Good luck.”

“I don’t need luck anymore, I have something better.”

The End.
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Everything I've Known