Untitled | Luke Hemmings

Untitled pt. 1

It felt like ages ago. The first time their eyes met across the room, while he still had his girlfriend at the time on his arm. The first time she felt his clammy fingertips nervously make their way around her fingers, while her date was burning holes through her scalp in a dark, over-packed party room. The first time he asked her out on a 'proper' date through the phone, 'cause he was too scared to ask her face to face, while her best friend was squeaking in the corner of her room. The first time he pushed her against his bed, brushing his lips all over her body. The first time he unlocked the door to their first shared apartment, then their new house in the city, then their new house in the suburbs. The first time they both were looking at their newborn sleepy baby over his crib. 

She was sitting on the sofa in a silent living room, playing with a shiny wedding ring on her finger. It's been over six years, but the ring only started to feel heavy on her finger now. It was almost like the ring suddenly felt so unfamiliar, so out of place that she debated taking it off completely. 

She could hear the harsh wind outside moving the screetching swings. She's been asking Luke to fix the swing set since last summer, because their little boy loved it, but he always managed to find an excuse to postpone it. 'It's almost autumn, he won't use it for a year' or 'I'm tired today, it was a long day' or 'I gave my tools to Calum' or, when he got really frustrated with her bugging, 'Why don't you just fucking do it?!'.

She pulled her legs up on the sofa and put her chin on her knees. Even though she knew, she should just go to bed instead of waiting up for him yet another night, she still stayed seated. She was not a typical wife - 'Where have you been all night?', 'Why have you not answered any of my calls?', 'Was it really so difficult to pick up a phone and let me know where you are?' - she never said any of this out loud to his face. Maybe she thought about it a couple of times in her head or whispered it into the dark of her bedroom, but she never said it out loud.

He was thankful for that, too. He knew she wanted him home and he knew she wanted him to be more of a typical homey husband, but he never was typical. He always looked at things with a different perspective and he felt thankful that she understood him and never asked him to be anything else than who he is.

So the fight that followed next day was something out of the blue to him. She was silent when he got home in the early hours of the morning, but she still pecked his lips softly and brushed his upper arm, as if silently trying to thank him for coming home at all. But in the morning he felt anger and sadness radiating off of her. He was never a morning person, Michael always teased him that even if he wakes up in the good mood, he's still 'a dick'. She knew that, yet for some reason she chose exactly that time of the day to get mad at him for no reason. Or so he thought.

'Luke, come on. This is important. I'm not asking for a whole day from you, just a couple of hours in the afternoon.' She tried levelling with her husband behind the closed kitchen doors, so that their son wouldn't have to hear an awful sound of his parents arguing in the early Saturday morning. Thankfully, he seemed pretty preoccupied with his bowl of cereal and a cartoon that was showing on TV.

'It is stupid, Maya. And you know it.' Luke replied tonelessly with his back turned to his beautiful wife, while attempting to cut cheese with a bread knife.

'Luke, I'm only asking you to come for an hour or so. You won't even have to pretend to enjoy yourself. Just please come to see your son.' Maya tried again, at the same time silently watching Luke struggle with his cheese.

'It's a stupid thing! I don't see a point in going there.' He said finally completing his sandwich and placing the knife in a sink.

Maya sighed silently. 'It is not about you, Luke. It's about your only son. Even Mali is coming to see Calum's daughter and she's only her aunt! You're the father, Luke. You're supposed to come and celebrate.' She pushed sternly, not even noticing when her nails starting to dig into her palm skin.