Something That Is More Than Only Fair

“Goodnight, Darius.”

“Night-night, Gwandma.”

Helena let her fingers ripple through the boy’s silky hair and come to rest on a satin cheek. Darius grinned up at her. “Sing, Gwandma?”

“Of course, baby.”

This was one of Helena’s favorite parts of being a grandmother. It truly was a gift to watch her grandson’s eyes slowly become leaden, just as his father’s had, to feel his soft little-boy skin under her fingers as she sang. If she closed her eyes, she could almost pretend it was Josh or Rob she was singing to again. It was the same lullaby that had soothed Josh’s colic, Rob’s night terrors, Heloise’s bedtime stubbornness and Babette’s fear of the darkened room.

But it was not the lullaby that had soothed Darius to sleep when he was tiny. That lullaby had been Isabel’s. Helena could not sing it; Isabel had translated it for her a dozen times, but Helena could never make her thick tongue flow around the liquid syllables of Simspanish. For most of Darius’s life, she had shrugged it off. Heloise … well, Babette’s children would hear her lullaby; it made sense that this sort of thing should go mother to daughter. After Isabel’s death, though, Helena had cursed herself for not knowing the lullaby — maybe that might have soothed Darius’s nighttime tantrums, when the pent-up patience that buoyed him through the day finally ran out. At night, Darius had wanted his mother. It got to the point where he would not go to sleep at all — he just screamed himself into exhaustion. Now, though, he went to sleep easily, and never seemed to want Isabel’s lullaby.

He never asked after Isabel anymore, either.

“Night, baby,” Helena whispered when the lullaby came to a close and she began to straighten.

Now that Darius had settled in to the new routine, the lack of Isabel, Helena could shake off the initial relief at the end of the crying fits and see the tragedy in it. Everyone liked to shake their heads and sigh over Baby Belle, who would never know her mother. But part of Helena thought that it was Darius’s case that was sadder. Darius knew Isabel, but he would never remember her. Maybe there would be a fleeting impression of a touch, a scrap of a lullaby he would hum to himself when he was sad or afraid. But other than that? Nothing. He would have nothing more than Baby Belle.

Helena’s mother had died when she was ten. Once upon a time, she had felt so sorry for herself because of that. Losing one’s mother while on the very cusp of womanhood — what was a girl to do! She’d had no older sisters to show her the way, and her father did not remarry until after she married. Poor her!

She’d been full of it back then. Ten years was not a long enough time to have a mother, but it was better than three, and barely three at that. Helena could still remember her mother’s face, and the lullaby she sang to her babies and now her grandbabies had been her mother’s lullaby. And if she worked very hard and was very patient — or bribed one of the boys to figure something out — she could still hear her mother’s laugh whenever something exceptionally amused Heloise. If Baby Belle or one of his own daughters ever came to laugh Isabel’s laugh, Darius would never know.

Helena blew out the candles and watched Darius curl into himself on the pallet. She ought to just walk away, let the boy sleep. He sometimes would wake up if you did not leave the room right after he fell asleep, and then there would begin another round of lullaby-singing, story-telling, and hand-holding. It was adorable, unless it was the third time this week he’d done that.

But, as usual, Helena could not resist one last tousle of the boy’s dark hair. “Goodnight, Darius. Grandma loves you.”

Darius’s toe twitched, but his eyes did not open. Helena stole from the room without a sound.

And once she was outside, the door shut behind her as soft as she could, she waited. A count of ten ought to do it.

One … two … three … four … five …

Odd how thinking of her mother made her think of her husband …

Six … seven … eight … nine … ten!

No plaintive, “Gwandma!” or “Papa!” came from the little one’s room. That should have been her cue to tiptoe down the hall as quick as her feet would take her.

Helena went nowhere.

Her mother was not strong — that was what they had said, heads shaking and whispering, at her funeral. “Well, she was never strong, poor dear …” Those mourners were full of it, of course; Helena saw that now. Her mother had been written off as “dying” and “not strong” since she had been the age Helena was when she died, and yet she’d managed to wed, work, bear and raise three children until that cold had finally been too much for her exhausted body. Not strong, my arse. Helena’s mother had been strong, stronger than any of her mourners, where it counted: in her mind and in her heart. It was only her frail body that had trouble shouldering its share of the burdens.

Her mother had been wise, too. She knew Death was stalking her, ready to swipe her with his scythe the moment she let her guard down. She refused to let him defeat her, though. If he insisted on taking her early, then she’d squeeze all the living she could out of the time she was allotted. “Life’s too short,” that was her motto. Life was too short to keep the house spotless, to not eat dessert, to not pull her husband (Helena’s father) up to bed in the middle of the afternoon, never mind that the shop was technically open and customers waiting.

Helena always felt vaguely ashamed when she thought of her mother and her marriage. Life was too short for the periods of the barest civility between husband and wife to stretch from hours, to days, to months and then to years. Her mother would have been so disappointed if she could have seen the way Helena’s marriage had crumbled while she was busy doing other things. Life was too short to have taken everything Mark had said so to heart. She should have done her best to forget about it, and make him forget about it too.

Well, there was no time to fix it like the present. Life was, after all, quite short.

If any of Helena’s numerous male acquaintances and more-than-acquaintances could have seen her at that moment, they would have recognized the look on her face, the smirk on her lips, the swish of her hips underneath that thin nightgown. They would have known it was time to start salivating. They would have been lining up.

And when Helena opened the door to her bedroom and drawled, “Hello, dear,” they would have sat up and paid attention.

Helena struck her best pose, the one she’d shamelessly copied from the shop girls her father had hired after her mother’s death. Hips cocked, bust forward, hand on one hip, pressing her nightgown flat against it so her interlocutor could see the shape of it. And of course, there was the smile. Brighter than a thousand thousand candles, and all for the man she was currently aiming it for (or so he would think, whether it was true or not). It was the pose that had stood her in good stead, for one purpose or another, since she was thirteen.

Mark was slipping his feet under the sheets. He didn’t even look up.

“Mark?” she crooned.

He grunted.

“Mark!” Helena snapped, shutting the door for emphasis.

He looked up. “What?”

Not the most auspicious of beginnings. Helena fixed her smile. “Going to bed already?” she simpered.

You look ready for bed.”

“There’s ready for bed,” she stalked over to him, “and then there’s ready for … bed.”

Mark’s eyebrows slowly rose like a kite caught by the wind and taking flight. He stood. “Helena …”

“Don’t you want to get ready for … bed?” she asked.

“Helena –”

“I mean, truly! How long has it been?” she giggled — and then thought about that. Perhaps that wasn’t the best question to ask. She changed course. “Now, I know that there are some couples who take a vow of chastity in the sunsets of their lives, the better to devote their lives to the Lord and so forth … but Mark, we haven’t entered the sunset yet. We’re barely in the late afternoon, don’t you think?”

He sighed. “I have an early day tomorrow, I don’t want to argue semantics with you now.”

“That’s easy to fix. Stop arguing.” She laid her hand on his shoulder, let it creep spider-like into his curls. Oh, how she had loved his curls when they were first married! So thick and crisp! She liked her own waves, too, but thinking of those curls on a baby’s head had made the processes of pregnancy and childbirth seem almost worth it!

From that it was nothing to rest her fingers on the back of his neck, tilt her head, close her eyes — lean it —

“Helena! No!”

Her eyes sprang open to find her husband springing away from her and into the bedside table, which rocked and swayed. Mark grabbed the candle before it could be upset.

“Son of a–” he started, but finished with a glare. “Wright Almighty! What does it take to get through to you?”

“Excuse me?”

“I’m not interested!” Mark sighed. “I told you, I have an early day tomorrow!”

“What, you can’t sleep in if you feel like it? You’re the boss!”

“Rob asked me to swing by the pet shop tomorrow afternoon –”

“So you can swing by in the afternoon! Have a leisurely morning! You don’t think Josh can handle the stables without you?”

Mark stared at her for a long moment, then sighed. “You just don’t get it, do you?”

“I understand that you are a gifted business man, and so is Josh, and so he should be able to handle things for one day –”

Mark rolled his eyes and muttered something under his breath, then squeezed around her.

“And where do you think you’re going?” Helena snapped, grabbing his elbow. Her voice, however, did not gain so much as a smidgen of volume. If there was any one thing she had learned in all her years of marriage, it was how to fight in a whisper.

Mark shook the elbow off as a horse would shake off a bothersome fly. “To Heloise’s old bedroom, because I’m obviously not going to get any sleep here tonight!”

Helena flinched — he could have slapped her, and she could not have been more stunned and stung. “What?”

“Heloise’s bedroom. There’s a bed in there. A single bed, and blessedly unoccupied.”

Blessedly?” she hissed. “What is that supposed to mean?”

If there was anything he could do that would make her blood boil, it was this — sighing, rolling his eyes, scowling. As if she were the idiot for not understanding! Who in his right mind would rather sleep than make love to a beautiful woman — and if she wasn’t beautiful anymore, well, she was still a damn sight better than most other women her age!

“What it says! Wright Almighty! What do you think it means? It means I want to be left alone!”

“Alone! Alone! I’ve left you alone for — I don’t even know how long now! Don’t you ever get tired of being alone?”

Mark’s eyelids flickered, but the only thing he did that could be considered a response was to shrug.

The air whistled between her teeth as she sucked it in. “Marital rights are a two-way street, you know!”

“Oh, says the woman who kicked me out of her bed for almost a year!”

“After what you said to me! What you accused me of! What you said about our daughter!” Helena snarled.

“Everything I said, you never denied!”

She did not flinch at that. She had known, if she ever brought the conversation up again, that would be Mark’s main weapon against her. That was why she had kept silent for so long. “Oh, for heaven’s sake, Mark. You want me to deny it? Fine. I’ll –”

“No!” His hand sliced, cutting the air between them in behalf. “That’s the thing. I don’t want to hear you deny it. I don’t want to be lied to!”

“Lied to? When have I ever lied to you?”

“Every day of our marriage, for all I know!”

“Mark!” Helena whisper-cried. “How can you even say something like that?”

“Because it’s true, for one thing!”

“I never told you a lie–”

“Oh, let’s not even start with that,” Mark scoffed.

“I haven’t!” Thinking of various things she had said to her husband over the years which might not have held up to the strict standard of truth she had just imposed on herself, she backtracked, “Well, not about anything important! Not about –”

“Helena, every word out of your mouth might have been the Lord’s own truth for all I care, but you were never truthful with me! If you didn’t want me, why the hell did you marry me?”

Helena blinked. “Now I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Twenty-seven years ago, Helena, you had a choice. You could have said no. If this wasn’t what you wanted, you could have told me so and it could have been over then and there! But after, it was too late!”

“Mark, what are you trying to say?”

“You lied to me!” Mark could not, would not roar with Darius sleeping down the hall, and Babette getting ready for bed or fixing her hair or doing who knew what else the next door down from Darius. But in his face, there was still something of the lion all the same. “You said you would stay faithful and true to me forever, or at least until one or the other of us died! And you lied to me!”

She felt the bones of her spine lock, each and every one of them, into place. She could have no more backed down then than she could have skipped to the moon. “I didn’t lie to –”

“Oh, because you weren’t planning on being unfaithful then and there, is that it?”

“How dare you? Who do you think you are?”

“Your husband, in case you’ve forgotten — again! Since you seemed to have trouble remembering that little — detail!” Mark kicked the side of the bed.

“I’ve never forgotten it!”

“Perhaps not. If you forget you have a husband, then you forget to be careful, and he might catch you.”

“Catch me! Catch me! Aye, and that’s one thing you’ve never done, isn’t  it?” Helena edged closer, the better to hiss in his face. “You’ve never caught me. You’ve never found anything to suggest to you that I was unfaithful!”

“Babette’s eyes. Her jaw. Her –”

“Stop it!” Helena gasped. “Stop it! If — if you think you have anything to reproach me with, you leave her out of it! She’s nothing to do with any of it!”

“Nothing to do with your infidelity? Fine, if that’s the way you want to be. If you can’t be a decent wife, you can at least be a good mother.”

“If I’m not a good wife, then what do you think I am? Some kind of whore?”

“Better an honest whore than a lying wife!”

“For heaven’s sake! As if you could find an honest whore! They don’t exist!”

Mark pulled away, a sudden faraway look springing into his eyes. It struck her as familiar, somehow, but Helena had no time to ponder why.

All he said, though, was, “You’d be surprised.”

Then he turned and strode away from her.

“Where are you going?” Helena snapped.

“Out.”

He wasn’t going — he couldn’t be going —

Helena watched him open one of the drawers of the bureau.

“You can’t go out!”

“Watch me.”

He said it without anger, without even a kind of horrible glee at winning when she was so obviously lost. He said it with no more excitement than he would announce the state of the weather, or the latest news from Glasonlander merchant circles.

“It’s late! You said you have an early start tomorrow!”

Mark pulled his sleeping shirt over his head and replaced it with a day shirt. “As you pointed out, I’m the boss — and Josh is more than capable of seeing to things for a day or so.”

“What if you fall off your horse? Or get set upon in the night? You’re mad to go out at this hour!”

“If it’s as late as you say, I’m sure the thieves and footpads are in their beds — or else they’re planning to rob a house or a warehouse. Not just some lone traveller.”

“Traveller? Where are you going?”

He did answer at first; he had a tunic over his head. But when he did turn to answer, he only had one word for her anyway: “Out.”

“Mark!”

He pulled his boots on without so much as looking at her.

“Mark, turn around when you’re fighting with me!”

He grabbed his money bag from the top of the dresser and affixed it to his belt.

“Mark!”

He left without another word, not even shutting the door.

“Mark?” Helena whispered. It was not even a whisper-shout, just a whisper. “Mark?”

The door did not open. All that broke the silence was the creaking of the stairs as Mark descended.

Threats were born, reached her lips, and died unsaid. What was the use of even thinking them? Mark wasn’t here to hear them. He wasn’t around to respond. And even if he had been …

Helena wouldn’t think of that. But in the course of not thinking about it, she thought of something else.

That faraway look in his eyes. She had seen it before. She had seen it turned on her, when they were courting, twenty-seven, twenty-eight years ago.

 

Apparently Mark, too, had decided that life was too short.

Advertisements

16 thoughts on “Something That Is More Than Only Fair

  1. I almost felt sorry for Helena here. Actually, I did feel sorry for Helena here. Maybe she wasn’t willing to admit to anything, but at least she came to some conclusions and decided to try to make things better.

    But I am very much Team Wei-Li at this point–err, assuming Wei-Li’s interest or potential for, of course 😉

    Poor Darius broke my heart here 😦

    • We will hear from Wei Li next post, so all of you Team Wei Li-ers can make up your minds then. :mrgreen: We will not be hearing from Helena then, either,

      And yes, poor Darius, indeed. Poor little kid is too young to really understand what’s going on, so all he knows is that he wants his mommy and she isn’t coming. And then once he gets over wanting his mommy … it’s because he’s started to forget about her. 😦

      But he’ll have lots of people — his grandparents, his aunties, his dad — around to tell him what she was like, at least. So there’s that silver lining.

  2. Oh boy. Helena and Mark have made such a mess of things. Every time I see the two of them I just see how it’s all gone wrong. You know, Mark, yes, she’s done you wrong, but you did her wrong too. And maybe she started it, but you weren’t the better sim.

    I know I should have some bit of startling insight or something, but seriously all I’ve got is “Why don’t you climb down off the cross, build a bridge, and get over it already.”

    Although I did like Helena’s thoughts about her mother. I liked Helena’s thoughts about Isabel’s laugh too. 🙂

    • I wonder what Mark would say to your useful little nugget of wisdom, Andavri. He might reply that he already has gotten over it. I mean, there’s two ways to get over it — getting over it as in moving on, patching things up, forgiving, etc.; and getting over it by getting over the other person.

      But given Mark’s vitriol here, I’m not sure he’s really done either of those.

      Glad you liked Helena’s thoughts about her own past! I figured she kind of needed one. 😆 She’s been a bit of a mysterious character to me.

  3. You know, I hate to say it– but it serves Helena right.

    Of course, I only hate to say it because of why Helena was trying to turn things around right now.

    I think what bothers me most about Helena is that she doesn’t seem to be thinking about whether or not her husband loves her. Rather, I don’t think she ever thought about that. Her first step in reconciliation– since Isabelle’s wedding!– was to go try to seduce Mark. Not, for example, talk to him? Suggest they start to put all this behind them? Sit down and deal with him like a person? No, she just treats him like a stroppy pony she can control if she puts her mind to it. Sex is not a panacea, and Mark’s problem with Helena isn’t about sex, exactly– it’s about love and fidelity. Her knowing just how to get a man’s attention and being unafraid to use it is what started their problems. What got them where they are today was her refusal to own up to her actions and apologize when he called her on it. And she still hasn’t apologized, despite her whole ‘life’s too short’ revelation.

    I kind of hate her guts right now.

    • Should I enter Helena into the proposed Bors-Morgause-Clarence deathmatch, Hat? 😉

      You’re very right about the way Helena went about trying to make up with Mark. She does have the relationship rather backwards, doesn’t she? First you’re supposed to make up with words and deeds, and then you get to the make-up sex.

      And she’s still refusing to admit what she did, even in her own head. Makes you wonder how much guilt she’s really feeling …

      • Oh, no, she’s nowhere near even Bors’s level, let alone Clarence’s– she might be hurting her husband, but she has some idea she’s doing it and is good to her kids. Helena isn’t a villain, and she’s barely an antagonist. She’s more like one of those people on soap operas I yell at.

        But she acts like the only possible reason Mark could be angry at her is because she’s not sleeping with him, so the solution to that is, out of the blue, to go seduce him. Ignoring the fact that her husband might be feeling angry, hurt, and/or betrayed, Helena is completely surprised that he said no to her– possibly that anyone might say no when she juts out her boobies and puts her hand on her hip just so. And she thinks reminding him of his husbandly duties will get him in the sack when that’s one of the things he refused to do to her just a few years ago. She expects men, including Mark, to dance to her tune because she’s just that sexy. Maybe that’s been her experience up until this point, but Helena isn’t crediting Mark with having sophisticated enough emotions to be angry about something besides alienation of affection. What she can see is that the only reason he could possibly have to be upset with her at this point is that she’s not sleeping with him, not that she may or may not have slept around in the past.

        And when questioned about the alleged affair, Helena doesn’t deny it, she doesn’t protest that it was only once, or that since he was a nobleman she had little choice, or that it was a whirlwind romance she got caught up in, that she hoped she could keep it from him for Babette’s sake and she’s sorry. All she does is get all smug and inform Mark that he can’t prove she had an affair– and answering “I think you did a naughty thing” with “You’ll never prove that” doesn’t exactly make you look innocent. She also seesaws back and forth between “You don’t have any proof” and “Don’t you bring Babette into this!” It’s kind of a giveaway of the ‘methinks the lady doth protest too much’ kind, particularly since Helena already knows Mark isn’t going to do anything to hurt his children’s chances in life.

        Is Mark totally blameless? I don’t know. Yes, okay, he’s been visiting a house of ill repute and engaging in activities of ill repute. I don’t know if he was doing that before he was officially kicked to the couch or not, and– considering prostitution, in-universe, is sinful but legal– I don’t know how wrong that is. Ideally, ‘forsaking all others’ should include paying for it, but. Mark didn’t go out and have a romantic love affair once he figured that he and Helena were now married in name only. He didn’t. He went out to play cards, drink beer, and bang some hookers, which at that point didn’t take anything away from his wife– at least nothing his wife wanted. Mark didn’t go looking to fall in love. He either went Out With The Boys or out looking for an escape for a few hours. The fact that he has become infatuated with a gently-bred, exotic prostitute to the point where he’s thinking about how nice it would be to have a mistress probably wouldn’t have happened if he weren’t on the outs with his wife.

        And he probably wouldn’t be on the outs with his wife if his wife weren’t so damned sure all she needs to control any man, husband included, is her undeniable load of sex appeal.

        I take two lessons from this.

        1. Nobody is that sexy.

        2. If you live somewhere with legalized prostitution, better talk to your significant other about when and/or whether it is appropriate to purchase those services while in a committed relationship.

        (I am also, I admit, mad at Helena for making me feel like I’m being a bad feminist. It’s kind of hard to feel all egalitarian when you’re rooting for the married man to avoid divorcing his cheating wife but still hook up with the prostitute. I’m usually pretty good at values dissonance, and I realize that Mark is actually doing what’s best for his kids given the rules of his world, which I can respect, but when you whip out a woman being that sexist toward men, I get all ‘goddammit!’ I also get this way over Ffraid in Lothere, but in a slightly different direction.)

        • Ah, one of those people! Well, carry on yelling, Helena’s done a lot in her life that’s yell-worthy. 😉

          As for the “lady doth protest too much” bit … I think Helena’s scared to admit what she did. (You’ll notice she barely even cops to it inside her own head.) Her fling with Ban was fun and great while it lasted — here was this older guy, yeah, but also charming and a bit dashing and more than willing to bring a bit of romance into her life, whereas Mark was always a bit staid — but considering she was a married woman with three munchkins, it was incredibly taboo. There were other guys, too, but Helena was a bit more careful with them (at least, they didn’t involve any bastard kids!).

          There’s also the question of Babette. Now, Mark’s not going to turn Helena and Babette out of the house, because 1) he still thinks of Babette as his daughter, 2) that would hurt his other kids’ reputation, 3) he’s not going to do that to an innocent party (which Babette is, no matter how annoying she is). But he could. And if he did, Helena and Babette would have no protection. They couldn’t even go to Lance, because Lance didn’t know about the affair. (He’d probably do something out of pity, but it would be nowhere near the standard which they were used to.) And, of course, if that happened, Josh’s, Rob’s and Heloise’s reputations would all go down the drain, Heloise’s particularly. To say nothing of Babette’s.

          Ban also didn’t leave anything behind for them in his will (because that would have been a giveaway that something was up), nor did he tell Lance to look out for them, because he died rather suddenly and before he got up the courage to tell his somewhat randy but strictly honorable son that he was banging some unsuspecting merchant’s wife.

          As for what Mark is doing, I think how people would perceive it would depend on what, exactly, they knew of the situation. If all they knew was that Mark’s marriage was on the rocks and he was going banging hookers in the evenings, I think most people (with the exception of Brother-Tuck-ites) would shrug it off. Some might commend him for his restraint for not forcing Helena back into bed with him. Others might call him spineless for not forcing Helena back into bed with him. If they knew that Mark’s marriage was on the rocks because Helena cheated on him … then most people would call him spineless. He could get the marriage annulled if he had some kind of proof. (Because the church isn’t going to run around annulling marriages just because the husband says she cheated without a shred of proof. Ending a marriage is a grave affair and whatnot.)

          Of course, if everyone knew that Helena cheated, then Mark’s and the kids’ reputations would be in the shredder anyway, so there would be no point in not trying to annul the marriage, and I think Mark would make the attempt to salvage what he could of the situation.

          But anyway, it’s not nearly as taboo for guys to go around with other women as for women to go around with other guys. Under certain circumstances, going to a brothel might be the gentlemanly thing to do. If your wife is sick/too pregnant/otherwise indisposed, relieving her of your attentions by discreetly visiting a brothel might be considered a kindness. (Though, if you regularly show up there the second week of the month or what have you, people are going to start thinking you’re incredibly tactless and have no forbearance.) So I guess the long and the short of it is — it depends!

          As for feminism … well, isn’t sexism sexism? And isn’t part of feminism claiming that women aren’t either Madonna or Eve, but generally fall somewhere in between? Whether we like it or not, some women are going to be closer to the “Eve” end of the spectrum (although Eve’s a bad example … Imelda Marcos, maybe?). Helena happens to be one of those women. *shrugs*

          I love getting into these debates. You really make me think these things out!

  4. Okay. I think it’s safe to say that didn’t go as Helena hoped – but I agree with Hat. It definitely wasn’t the solution to go for. 😦 For a moment I actually thought she was going to do something sensible and she and Mark would actually work some things out, but no. And I’m for ‘Team Wei-Li’ as well, although I’m not sure how much real feeling there is on her side. At least Helena is beginning to care again, even if it is just in that she realises that this situation is deplorable. And poor, poor Darius! My nan and mum have a lullaby like that, and I’m very proud that I know it 🙂 I hope that he and baby Belle are alright, in the future, and that Josh manages to come through for them.

    Emma x

    • Like I told Van, Wei Li is going to be in the next post, so I’m eagerly anticipating which teams people will end up on then!

      It would have been interesting to see how Mark would react if Helena tried to be sensible. If she’d done that in the days or weeks following Josh and Isabel’s wedding, I think Mark would have been incredibly receptive. As it was, she eventually let Mark back into the bed, and things have been in a sort of “coexist frigidly, raise our kids, run our household” mode since then. And it clearly started affecting Mark before it affected Helena.

      So now, I wonder if Mark is willing to listen, even if she is willing to admit that she cheated and apologize for it.

      We’ll see how Josh does in the future … but he has made some steps to getting better. We’ll just have to see if he continues making them. 🙂

  5. (First post, after I’ve been reading through the arcive the whole weekend :3)
    Poor Darius, really :’/
    But I agree with you, Helena just don’t get a hint when she sees it…

    P.S. This is great blog! 😀

    • Hi Camille! Welcome! I hope you had a nice weekend. 😉

      Yeah, it really does suck to be Darius right now … and it will probably suck more once he gets older and realizes how much he’s missing. Poor baby.

      Nope, Helena doesn’t take to hints very well! Especially when it’s going against her vision of the world as she knows it. “What do you mean, my husband doesn’t want to have sex with me? Don’t all guys want to have sex with me?”

      Thank you, Camille! Hope you keep reading, and hope to see you around!

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s