The phone-ringing brought Lynette out of the fugue state she’d spent most of the day in. She stood and walked over, wiping at the tear-tracks on her face.
“Hello. It’s me. Is Tom in?”
“Uh…yeah he is…did…did you want to speak to him?”
“Of course not. I just wondered if you were alone.”
“Because I’d like to have sex with you and my mother-in-law is at my house so you can’t come here.”
“You’d like to…Bree, I don’t think that would be…appropriate.”
“Appropriate? I didn’t realise that there was an appropriate waiting time from when one’s husband dies to when one can start sleeping with one’s lover again.”
“Bree, he died yesterday.”
“I am aware of that. I believe I informed you of that fact just this morning.”
“Listen, wait there, I’m coming over.”
“You can’t. I told you, my mother-in-law is moping all over the place, weeping and wailing like an Italian.”
“I’m not coming over to have sex with you, I’m coming over so we can talk.”
“If you must.”
Bree’s door was opened by Phyllis Van De Kamp, who was holding a handkerchief to her mouth.
“Hi…Mrs Van De Kamp…I didn’t get a chance to say earlier, but I was so sorry to hear about Rex. He’ll be missed.”
“Thank you dear. And you are?”
“Lynette. Lynette Scavo. I came to see Bree.”
Phyllis turned and yelled.
“Bree, there’s a ‘Lynette Scavo’ here to see you.”
Bree came downstairs and shot Phyllis a look.
“Come in Lynette. Let’s go into the kitchen.”
Phyllis stood aside to let Lynette enter. They walked through the living-room. Bree closed the kitchen door behind them and turned to face Lynette, her arms crossed over her chest.
“So? What did you want to talk about?”
Lynette was at a loss. She hadn’t really planned what she was going to say, she’d only known that Bree needed her. She moved towards Bree but Bree stepped away and went to the coffee machine.
“Don’t ask me how I’m feeling. I’m trying not to feel anything.”
“I…I don’t know what to say…how to…”
Bree shook her head.
“I don’t want you to say anything. I rather hoped we would be doing something.”
Lynette’s brow creased.
“What is this about? This isn’t us. We’ve never been all about sex. What’s this sudden obsession?”
“Well Lynette, I hardly think we’re about much else. We don’t go out. We meet in the afternoon and have sex. I don’t see why you’re so shocked.”
“No. Never in the whole time we’ve known each other have you called me and told me that you want to have sex with me. And you very rarely say the word ‘sex’. So what is this about?”
Bree looked at the floor, shoulders slumped.
“Because I don’t want to think about all of this. I just want to be with you and forget this for a little while.”
Lynette moved forward and pulled Bree into her arms, trying to ease away some of the tension in her body.
“I can’t begin to imagine what you’re going through. But I do know that forgetting about it isn’t going to be healthy in the long-run. You need to let yourself grieve. Let yourself feel.”
Bree clung to Lynette, her face hidden in her neck.
“I can’t. I can’t. Not yet. I have to be strong until after the funeral. I can’t break down before then.”
Lynette ran her hand up and down Bree’s back.
“Bree, no-one will think badly of you if you cry. He’s your husband.”
Bree pulled away and wiped hastily at her eyes, not allowing the tears to fall. She turned away and busied herself with wiping non-existent crumbs from the counter.
“I feel guilty.”
Lynette took a moment to process the whispered words.
“You fee-…why? It was his heart, there was nothing you could have done.”
Bree turned and leaned back against the counter.
“I could have noticed. I could have paid more attention to him. He knew there was something wrong, that he wasn’t getting better. But I didn’t care enough. I was too busy trying to make him jealous with George. And when I was with him, I was too preoccupied thinking about how much I wanted to be with you. I just wasn’t there for him. And now he’s dead.”
“Honey, it’s not your fault. You can’t really think that.”
Bree squared her shoulders and stood up straight. She smiled at Lynette and Lynette’s heart sank, because she knew the façade had come back up.
“No, you’re right of course. Now, can I interest you in a muffin?”
Lynette watched as Bree bustled around, fixing coffee and getting plates. She walked up behind her and put her arms around her waist, resting her chin on her shoulder.
“When you’re ready to let go, you let me know.”
Bree covered Lynette’s hands with her own.
See Author's Notes on this fic
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