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So Beautiful	By : Leneanna Category: Singers/Bands/Musicians > Savage Garden Views: 1843 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. I do not know the members of Savage Garden. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
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I like what Darren said in his blog about having a home for his emotions; about having support. Isn’t that a metaphor for our marriage, really? That’s part of what being someone’s partner is about. You can’t just be there only during the good times. You have to provide comfort and support when the other person is hurting. It doesn’t matter what roles we usually play in the relationship. If one of us is going through a hard time, the other steps up without asking. Like this time with the whole Michael Jackson thing. I gave him whatever he needed, even if it was just having my arms to hold onto, to let him know I was there for him. It’s really quite easy for us to slip in and out of the dual roles of nurturer and provider. We don’t even need to think about it, really.

Sometimes when all is said and done, at the end of the day, the best comfort we can give each other is just a touch or a cuddle. Even animals comfort each other with touch. It’s one of our favourite things to do. It’s probably why we end most days cuddled up on the couch, holding each other close. All the cares in the world disappear under our fingers. I love touching him, and I don’t necessarily mean that in a sexual way. It’s so relaxing to reinforce your bond with your lover. (smiles and closes his eyes) Our faces are inches apart, our eyes are locked on each other. We can feel each other’s hearts beating. My fingers lightly brush over his skin. Could be his arm, his shoulder, his face. I especially love to touch his face. I’ll stroke his eyebrow, or trace the curve of his ear. Hearing him sigh and tell me he loves me makes me go all warm and fuzzy inside. We’ve fallen asleep there many nights. Even if Darren cries sometimes when I’m touching him, it’s okay, because I know he’s letting go of his pent-up tension.

I surprised him this weekend by booking a few nights at one of our favourite get-aways: a spa out in the country, away from the hustle and bustle of the city. Firstly, we took in “Harry Potter”, which was fun. Then, a lovely ‘couples massage’, where we’re lying side-by-side, holding hands, being worked on at the same time. I used to be quite shy about being touched by strangers, but all Darren’s raving about massages convinced me to try it. The food was lovely, the swimming pool was great, and our room was really romantic. We had a waterbed and mirrored ceilings, which meant I could watch myself get laid and throw up from motion sickness. Joking. Waterbeds don’t bother me.

Darren will be working with Justin for the next few weeks. I’ve got a few client meetings coming up about possibly doing more videos. I’m chuffed that my name is getting out there. I never dreamed I’d be able to pick and choose which projects to work on.

I must admit, I loved that mirrored ceiling so much, I asked D how he felt about mirroring our own bedroom ceiling. I don’t think he cares one way or another, but I’m very visually-oriented, so watching and participating at the same time is very arousing for me. He said we can do it, as long as it doesn’t become a hindrance, or get to the point where I can’t get aroused without it. Nah, it’s not that big a deal, I just think it’d be fun.

So I got some stick-on mirrored panels and put them on the ceiling over our bed. We can always remove them if the novelty wears off. It just makes me feel sexy. It’s not like I’d ever film us having sex, or anything like that. Those things invariably end up in the wrong hands, and D would never agree to it, besides. The overhead mirror thing just feels delightfully naughty. I like it!

He and Justin are currently up there, in Darren’s attic studio, laughing like hyenas. I’m jealous. I can’t just crash the studio, but it doesn’t sound like they’re actually ‘working’, and Darren is all over the internet at the moment. I know; I’m stalking him. No, I’m not jealous of Justin, just that they’re having fun, and my client won’t be here for two more hours. (sigh) I’m going out to weed my vegetable garden. I’m feeling grumpy, and I’ve no reason to be. Maybe some sunlight will help. Or maybe I’m just dwelling on the fact that Darren’s going to be away for two weeks, and I can’t go with him this time. I’ve got three projects pending, and the first one involves spending a good bit of time with Damian. Not like I’ll have time to lie about moping, but communicating with your partner via webcam for two weeks doesn’t fill the space next to you in bed at night. And I was starting to feel guilty about being busy with work? Isn’t that something working mothers usually feel? Darren and I have discussed this many times. We’re very supportive of each other’s careers, and being that we’re both creative artists, we understand that sometimes there will be periods of intense absorption that don’t leave us a lot of togetherness time. We always make a point of trying to schedule quality time for each other. I guess we’ll do that once he gets back. Am I afraid we’ll get too busy for each other and neglect our relationship? Not really, because even when he’s out of town, we’re still in touch all the time. As much as we both love what we do and the joy it brings us, it’s nothing next to what we get from our relationship; so no, neither of us has any intention of letting our marriage suffer. I think I feel better now.

Woo hoo! There’s been a change of plans. He’s not going until next month. I’m so relieved! We’ve been working like dogs on our respective projects. We’re taking tomorrow off to recharge. I started on dinner once he called to say he was on the way home. I’m making a nice pot of beef stew. Comfort food for my Lovely. He came in and flopped onto the lounge room couch. I was just getting in from a quick round-the-block walk with the dog. Starting to smell good in the kitchen. He took one look at me and burst into tears. The dog jumped up onto the sofa, and I knelt beside Darren.

“Aw Luv, what’s wrong?”, I ask, as I run my fingers through his hair.

“I’m fried, Rich. Completely exhausted.”

“I know, Luv. You’ve been working so hard. My poor Sweetie. Tomorrow is Happy Love Day. No singing. No writing. No studio. For me either. Starting now, we’re just going to relax. Sound good?”

He nods, sniffling.

“I need a nurofen. I’ve got a headache.”

“I’ll get you one.”

I stand up and bring him back a pill and a paper cup of water.

“Here you go, Sweetheart. I need to check on dinner.”

I give him a kiss, and return to the kitchen, lifting the lid on the pot to give it a stir.

“Mmm, smells delicious.”

“Is it gonna be awhile, Rich?”

“About 15, maybe 20 minutes.”

He stands up.

“I’m gonna take a quick shower.”

“Okay, Luv.”

He gives me a kiss and heads upstairs. I set the table. We ate dinner holding hands, and spent the evening in the conservatory, watching Star Wars, letting the stress melt away. I was glad Darren was starting to feel better. I’m planning on a picnic in the park tomorrow, and D is talking about possibly getting tickets for a West End show for tomorrow night. Darren is convinced the full moon has something to do with his weird mood.

We ate lunch in the park. Afterwards, D fell asleep on the blanket whilst trying to pick shapes out of the fluffy clouds. I sat beside him, reading, and listening to my i-Pod. Every so often, he’d stir and reach for my hand. Goofy Waldo appeared from wherever he’d been, carrying something in his mouth. Uh oh. What’s he brought us this time? I don’t want to yell and wake Darren, but you try getting a dog to obey when you’re whispering commands. Fortunately, he also responds to visual signals. I called him over and instructed him to “Drop it!”

What he’d been carrying was nothing more than a large rock, about the size of a softball, but mostly flat. Where’s the appeal in that, I wondered? After inspecting it and making certain it was neither dangerous, nor part of some expired creature’s anatomy, I let him have it back. He happily walked ‘round the blanket to where his beloved master was having a nana nap, and dropped the bloody slobber-covered thing on Darren’s chest, nudging it toward Darren’s chin with his nose. I choked back a laugh. D got blasted in the face with the dog’s putrid breath. He raised his head and scowled at the rock, then at Wally. I couldn’t contain my giggles. D glared at me.

“What the fuck is this?”

“A gift, I’d wager. Or maybe he wants you to throw it.”

He rolls onto his side and picks up the rock for a closer inspection. Wally is clearly anticipating it being thrown, and starts backing up. Darren flings it, and the dog takes off after it. Game on! For the next few minutes, a game of fetch is in progress, until Wally gets bored and drops his new-found toy just out of reach, and plops onto the blanket beside Darren, tongue lolling out of his mouth. Darren reaches for a water bottle.

“Here, Wally. Have a drink. Rich?”

I look up and pause my i-Pod.

“Yes, Luv?”

“Wanna take in a show tonight?”

I shrug.

“Sure. Which?”

“There are a few we haven’t seen yet. I’ll see what we can get tickets for.”

“Fine by me, Luv.”

“You ready to go back?”

“Are you?”

“Yeah, I think so.”

We pack up our stuff. Wally picks up his rock.

“Alright, you can bring your pet rock home, but it’s not coming in the house. You can leave it outside the door.”

I’m glad D is more relaxed today. Still a bit fidgety, but I’ll take it compared to last night.

He was transfixed at the show, and we spent half the night lying in bed, having a deep discussion about God. I love deep discussions! Tomorrow, my sister and her family are coming, and afterwards, Hillary is staying with us for a few days. D is all excited. My mind is swirling with menu-planning options. What to make that a fussy child will eat?

It was hilarious! Hillary brought one of those little hair-straightening irons that are apparently all the rage these days. After dinner, we were sitting around, bored, which would not have happened if it was just Darren and myself, but certain programmes on telly are questionable for young children, so we just Tivo’d our favourites to watch later.

“Ooh, I know! Uncle Darren, would you let me straighten your hair? I promise I won’t make you look dodgy. Puleez???”

I sniggered and nearly spat out my tea. He rolled his eyes.

“Oh, alright!”

She gleefully ran upstairs and came back down with her iron and a comb, and plugged it in.

“It only takes a few minutes to heat up.”

Had we been in the company of other adults instead of an 8-year-old, Darren would’ve probably quipped, “So does Richard.”

He winked at me. I’ve got to get a piccie of this!

Fifteen minutes later, she was admiring her work. I thought he actually looked pretty cute. He posted the pics on Twitter. We took her to see “Ice Age”, and to the mall. Thankfully, she was tired and didn’t stay up too late, so we did get a bit of ‘alone time’ after all.

The disaster occurred when my sister and her husband came to collect Hillary early Sunday. My sister, forgetting that we live in an old house, flushed something down the loo that not only stopped it up, but ultimately cut off the water to the whole house. After realizing that the problem wasn’t going to be remedied by me taking to the toilet with a plunger and a stream of obscenities muttered under my breath, Darren spent the better part of an hour trying to get an emergency plumber out to the house on Sunday. The water was finally restored at 9pm. We made do with bottled water and the neighbor’s loo. My sister was mortified and profoundly apologetic. Trust me, she’ll never flush another of those things at our house again.

It’s so much easier living with a man! No one’s going to accuse us of using too much loo paper, or stuffing up the pipes with hygiene products. And that was our big excitement for the weekend. Well, that and Darren got into it with some Bible-quoting homophobe on Twitter or Myspaz or whatever. (sigh) Domestic bliss in the Hayes/Cullen household.
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So Beautiful