Story By: Beffers87, and Greye Granger

Written By: Greye Granger

Picinspiration: Beffers87

Beta: Jules Twifansox

I wouldn't have been able to write this story without Beffers87's awesome help, and I am so grateful to Jules for her epic Beta skills!

Chapter One: Solitude

Time goes by slowly when you're alone.
Sometimes I think I'd rather be in a crowded room, feeling alone, rather than by myself and truly alone. At least I would see the people around me that ignored my presence.

Instead, I sat in silence.

Day in, and day out, nothing changed.

My isolation had become my only friend.

They say that loneliness is a choice, and I was inclined to agree with that statement. Of course, if I could change my predicament, would I? I had no idea how to do such a thing. I could go out. Anywhere would be better than sitting in my excessively large house all day until sleep was acceptable. But where would I go, and who would I see? I wasn't as social as I once was. All of that, out there, was unknown territory, so at least my loneliness was familiar.

If you're caught sleeping in the middle of the day for long periods of time, people start to talk. The first time someone called me depressed, I laughed. It felt good to laugh, especially at something so absurd. Although, as more lonely days passed, I feared the newfound truth of my predicament.

My computer screen was screaming at me. At least in my seclusion from the outside world, it was never quiet. The blank word document mocked me to no end, too. I couldn't shut the document up: not until I gave it what it wanted. Words only came to me at their own leisure, they paid no mind to my begging for them.

Trying to be a writer when you never know what to write about, was like a professional ballet dancer that had never danced a day in her life. It was unknown, and it was shameful, but I tried anyway. One day I knew the floodgates would open, and I would never be able to stop typing on the nearly brand new keyboard of my Macbook.

A small sigh escaped my lips. I grabbed my clear glass from the oakwood desktop and brought it to my mouth. I hesitated briefly, then threw back more vodka. It was the only thing that kept me alert now. It burned each time it hit my throat, awakening me anew.

Writing takes patience. It takes all of your mind and soul. But how was one supposed to write about love? No author in the history of writing could answer that question. All they can say is, "What you feel, is what you write." I didn't feel love, therefore, I could never write it. I could write about despair, but who wants to read about that?

I should be able to feel love, but it only angered me to know and admit that I didn't; that it had been so long since I had felt it; too long ago to recall. And loving myself would never be enough, because I was one of 'those' women. Everyone knows a woman like me. I may be cold, I may be sad, but at least I knew what love was. I had experienced the real thing. I thrived for it. In fact, I even searched for it, and took whatever I could find. But only when I met my husband did I succeed in my searching.
My new life with Jacob was everything I had wanted it to be at such a young age, plus more. I couldn't recall when that happy fairy tale had faded into the wind. All of the love I had ever felt from him vanished without a trace. One day, we stopped talking about our dreams, we stopped touching each other in a sensual way, and my heart began to grow as cold as ice. It was pathetic how much I once needed him; but now, I was so used to being alone, that I couldn't tell the difference. I still yearned for my heart though, and when it left me, it took my soul along with it.

Just like all else in this life, it left me to myself.

Which is where I am now.

Alone.

As my eyes glanced out my bay window, they saw the ocean waves roaring. The end of spring was bringing in many storms. The ocean loved it, though; it was a chance for her to come alive. She could sing, move, and cry as loudly as she wished.

I was jealous of her.

The clock on my computer read half past four. My husband would be home soon. He was never a minute late without a phone call, an hour before to tell me so. His routine was my entire life. It was an endless circle, and I never stepped out of it. Instead, I moved with it. It was much easier for him, and for me. Besides, what else was there to do?

I didn't cook. Jacob knew that long before he married me. In high school, he promised to hire a cook one day: a cook that would deliver gourmet meals each night by five o'clock and no later. He kept his promise. Bethany was a great cook. She was young, vibrant, and studied at the University, majoring in the Culinary Arts. She would no doubt manage her very own five star restaurant someday.

She was kind to me, too.

With one more look to my computer screen, I groaned and closed it. Nothing would be written today. I would try again tomorrow. My circular routine would stay the same. The doorbell rang. Bethany promised Chicken Parmesan tonight.

It was my husband's favorite.

Jogging down my grand staircase, my cell phone rang from my back pocket. I pulled it out just as I opened the front door. Bethany smiled at me, her short brown hair was straight, and she had it pulled back with a yellow headband. I waved her in and answered my phone call.

"Hello?"

"Hey, Hun."

I sighed," Hi."

"Listen, something came up again. The firm needs me back in Florida." My stomach dropped. I stepped into the den that was attached to the foyer and ran a hand through my long unkempt hair.

"Again, Jake?"

"Yeah, sorry. It'll only be four days, though."

"Four?" I choked. "But my birthday is Sunday."

"Shit," He cursed.

"You forgot." It wasn't a question. I knew him too well.
"You know how much I suck at remembering dates, Bella. I'll make it up to you. I promise."

"All right."

"Hey, cheer up, four days will fly by. Lets go out on the boat when I get back, yeah?"

I smiled, "Okay. Be careful."

"Will do. I'll call you tomorrow."

"I love you," I said. He paused. I heard him answer what I assumed was a colleague's question. It was a woman, but it didn't sound like his assistant. He had mentioned a new partner, though. A cold sweat broke across my forehead.

He needed to reply to me.

"Jake," I said.

"Huh? Yeah, sorry. Love you, too."

Our call ended.

I stayed still with my iPhone still pressed against my ear. At least he said it back. When I thought of the next four days, my shoulders dropped. If only he knew how long those simple days would be for me.

Furthermore, it was only Thursday, so Jacob's return home on Monday would never come to me. I slowly made my way into the kitchen where Bethany was digging around in the top cupboard.

"Shit, I forgot oregano!" she fumed. I giggled and came up to the island counter in the middle of the large kitchen. I placed my phone down in front of me.

"That's all right. Jacob has to go to Florida again. He leaves tonight." Bethany's shoulders fell.

"Oh, well that sucks. I don't like it when you have to be alone."

I blushed, then shrugged. "At least it saves our oregano problem." Bethany grinned.

"What can I make you?"

"Oh, nothing," I replied, waving a hand through the air dismissively.

"No, no. I insist! It's what you pay me to do." I thought in silence for a moment.

"Tuna melt?"
"Sounds great. I'll make two." I smiled, glad that she was staying to eat with me.

Bethany was an easy person to talk to, she kept things light and happy. It was a drastic, and much appreciated turnaround from my daily conversations. She was a busy girl with a fabulous social life. I listened intently to every story she ever told me. I fed off of it like a soap opera. We talked all throughout our meal, but then, just after finishing our tuna melts, she grew quiet. We sipped more of our wine coolers. It was strange to see this serious side of her.

"What is it?" I hedged. Her hazel eyes looked to mine. They were forlorn.
"So, Derek and me..."

"Yeah?" Bethany and Derek had been dating since her freshman year at college. They were in love, and it was my favorite topic of discussion.

"He's been cheating on me," she whispered, making my throat tighten.

"Oh?"

"Sadly, I don't really care. We're so perfect together in every aspect. I think it makes us bored being this perfect together. In fact, I've sort of started talking to this other guy, too. Jared." She hung her head low. It took me a moment to gather my thoughts. Her admission threw my mind in a frenzy.

"Uh," I stuttered.

Bethany threw her arms in the air frantically. "I know, I know!" she wailed. "I'm terrible."

"No," I said uncertainly. She was though, wasn't she? I didn't know for sure. I'd never had the thought of cheating on my husband. The thought would never even get within a hundred feet of my brain. "I mean, do you really like this other guy?"

"Yeah. No. I mean... sort of. The sex is amazing, though."

I blushed and covered my mouth with my free hand. "Oh!" I gasped between fingers. I removed my hand and chugged more alcohol. "Better than with Derek?" I asked curiously. I was intrigued now.

"Yes! Derek only makes love. It's always soft and slow. But Jared, God," she sighed, reminiscing. "It's passion!" I nodded absently. Jealousy and longing fought against each other deep within me. Sex was nothing to me. I feared that I couldn't even remember how to do it.

"So which do you think is better?" she asked. My eyes shot back to hers. She wanted advice from me? That was something to laugh about. I had never had passion-filled sex. I wasn't sure if I had even made slow, sweet love. There was a time when sex was all Jacob and I did, but was it even worth mentioning? Or remembering? Again, I wasn't sure.

I tapped my chin, "I guess you need to decide which you like best. Which one you can't live without." Bethany frowned.

"Neither," she finally said. Her frown deepened, and I tilted my head at her. She finally looked over to me.

"Guess I can't have both, huh? Fuck, what have I done?" she groaned, and I gave her a small smile.

We decided that we definitely needed to drink more.

"What would you do?" she asked suddenly. I nearly choked on my drink. Bethany giggled. I leaned back into the white, wooden chair that I was sitting in and thought hard. My forearms rested on my thighs while my hands held the neck of my bottle.

"Bella?" she asked. I looked up at her.

She needed an answer.

"I was trying to put myself in Derek's shoes, and think about how I would feel finding out, but I forgot that he's cheating, too. You're in a tough spot, sweetie. You'll need to pick one soon, though."

"Yeah, you're right," she said glumly. Her hair slid onto her cheeks. I took notice of her black shirt, and how the back of it was sheer lace. You could see her pink bra. Was that popular now? She wore it with short white shorts and black strappy sandals. Her short legs were so tan.

"Would you leave Jacob if he cheated?" That was somehow an even harder question for me to answer. I wanted to scream yes immediately, but my loneliness stopped me. The suspicions that I already had of him committing adultery flooded back to me. It was a strong flood, knocking over everything in its way; it left nothing but sadness in its wake. I was choosing to stay. At least my suspicions weren't proven true...

Yet.

"I don't know," I whispered. "I do know that people move past it after therapy, but for me, I'm not sure I would ever gain back the lost trust." Bethany sighed. "I'm sorry," I told her, chuckling lightly. "I'm not much help."

"No, no. It felt good just to talk about it all. I've gotta get back to campus, though. I'll see you tomorrow?"

I shook my head. "Take a long weekend, and come back Monday." She smiled and stood up.

"You sure?"

"Absolutely. I'll be fine, and I'll still eat without you. Go!"

Bethany hugged my neck, and then she was gone.

In her absence, there was just the silence.

My solitude had returned to drown me once again.

I hope you all enjoyed this! I will be updating this new story on Wednesday's, and Saturday's, so keep an eye out! :D