There are some days when you don't want to get out of bed. The world outside is too cold, too draining and all you really want to do is stay beneath the warm covers and forget everything. Forget Rex, forget the children and just sleep. Of course, you never do. You used to feign early morning exuberance when there was a man that still shared your bed. That's all but forgotten now; your teenagers are children that barely rise before midday and you don't see anyone until Lynette makes an appearance at the door, all dishevelled hair and lopsided glasses.
She makes her apologies for being late or having the children hanging off her arms. She doesn't realise that when she comes to your house, and interrupts the perfect stillness of the kitchen where everything is clinically cleaned or breaks the silence of a garden with a swingset that Andrew leaves to rust, that it is the moment your world lightens.
Sometimes, she stays too long. Your lines blur and you're not sure where friendship ends, and something else begins. Those thoughts, as Lynette's head begins to fall onto your shoulder as daytime soaps show on the television and you're sitting on the sofa with your eyes glued to anywhere but her, are pushed to the back of your head. They are dangerous, and destructive and have no place in Bree Van De Kamp's life.
And when the sky begins to darken, and Lynette's own snores wake her from her disruptive doze, you straighten your skirt and comb a nervous hand through your hair as though if it wasn't for those distractions, she could see straight through you. See what lies behind the facade that is slowly crumbling with every hour that passes with Rex missing from your home.
One day, you think as you close the door behind you and wander back into the living room, there will be no facade left. There will be nothing to hold up and pretend to be. Rex will finally divorce you and your children will leave and there will be nothing.
There is fear when you think of that because you know that you will have nothing to lose, nothing to stop you from acting on your impulses, no rationality preventing your wild dreams. It scares you because you cannot lose her friendship. You can't lose her.
So maybe your sensibilities, or as your therapist would call them your neuroses, will stop you.
You can only hope.
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