Sapphic Voices General Fiction

Should've

“We should’ve married each other,” she said.

I froze, thankful she couldn’t see my expression through the phone line. I was speechless.

With a quick recovery after an awkward pause, she said, “but that’s not legal.”

I was still reeling. She had no way of knowing how deeply that comment had affected me, how I wondered what she really meant. Did she think I felt the idea repugnant, that she’d crossed the line? I couldn’t let her think that, because it wasn’t true. In truth, I’d had the same thought many times, especially in the last year, after learning that her husband had spun downward into addiction and that her marriage was crumbling under the pressure from it. My own marriage hadn’t been a rose garden, not a fairy tale kind of thing by any stretch of the imagination, but not completely unhappy. I could deal with this angry rollercoaster ride as long I thought she was happy.

In the past year or so, I’d begun to question how I felt about her. Had I always felt like this, and buried it, denied it? Did it just seem to happen because I saw her so unhappy and unloved that I wanted to make her see how wonderful she is, that she deserves real love? Is it just that I’m getting older and the hormones are fluctuating? There are just no easy answers to this.

“No, it’s not legal,” I said, “but that wouldn’t stop me. People make lifetime commitments every day, and they don’t need a legal document to make it binding. At least these days. It’s more acceptable now. But legality sure would’ve made a lot of decisions easier.”

Now it was her turn to get quiet. I think my response might have surprised her, though she’d known me more than twenty years, and known that I am pretty liberal. Maybe she was wondering if she really shouldn’t have opened this can of worms. Too late to close it back up now…

So we kind of just let all those little worms squirm off to find the dark moist places in which they prefer to dwell.

The conversation turned away from her initial comment, and more toward marriage in general. I told her that if my current marriage ended, I don’t think I’d marry again. It just seemed that I’d given up too much of myself in this one, lost so much of myself while filling the wife and mother role. Despite the immense rewards of building a life with someone and raising truly wonderful sons, I just don’t think I have it in me to do that again.

“Oh,” she said, sounding almost disappointed. “I guess you have a point there.”

“I don’t know,” I answered. “Maybe we ended up with the wrong people. Maybe it wouldn’t be so draining if we’d been with the right ones.”

I don’t remember how the rest of that phone call went. It lasted for at least two hours, and as usual we touched on all kinds of topics. For the life of me, all I can remember of it is this conversation. It sticks in my head bright and clear against the fog and fuzz caused by age, stress, and sleep, even though it’s been months since it happened.

It’s as close as we’ve ever come to talking about where our relationship could have gone, and maybe still could go. I can’t answer for her, but I’m afraid of ruining our friendship. Though we were both raised in conservative households, she has remained more devout and conservative than I. That’s why the marriage comment threw me. Maybe she meant it completely innocently, maybe not. Maybe she’s in the same quandary, and afraid of scaring me away, too. Maybe she’s fought with herself, as I have, to bury these feelings and be ‘acceptable.’ Finding out is a risk I’m not ready to take. If what we have now is all I can have, I’ll take it, rather than taking a chance of losing her.

If you have enjoyed ave's "Should've", then please be certain to e-mail her at  ave[at]sapphicvoices.com  and thank her for posting this Story.

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