She Watches

Long ago, when they were young and in love, she watched his eyes, his face, searching for any subtle expression that told her his mood. Over the years, it developed into an easy habit. He became an open book to her, though sometimes he didn't know just *how* open. She pretended ignorance when he laughingly told her his friends said they could see right through him, that he wore his heart on his sleeve. He had no idea what they meant. She chose not to tell him.

The movie offer came, and he accepted. Who wouldn't have? It was just what his career needed. True, it would take him away from his family for long stretches of time, but in the end, it would be worth it. She saw him joyful, surprised, relieved, grateful. He wanted this badly, that much would have been obvious even to a stranger. She sent him off to New Zealand with kisses and words of encouragement. Life was good, very good indeed.


Her eyes almost fell out of her head the first time *he* stood before her, the living, breathing person instead of a picture. All the fitting words came to mind -

Beautiful. Dazzling. Ethereal. Breathtaking. Magical. Alive - so achingly, straining-at-the-bit *alive*. And so, so young.

His light blinded all who looked at him, hushed them into submission. She watched the eyes of her husband, though she wasn't sure why. More words came to mind, though she struggled to push them away -

Adoration. Longing. Need. Lust. Love.

She told herself it was all in her imagination. Had to be. And even if it wasn't, she reasoned, why not let him adore the boy? She knew nothing would happen. Besides, it would give his performance that extra edge, make it more realistic. That was it, she decided firmly - he was living in the character, bringing him to life and carrying him wherever he went. She understood this - actors did this. In the end, he was coming home to her. It was alright.

Then why was she so afraid?

She visited him on the set. She attended premieres, parties, interviews. She watched. His face took on a new look. He moved and spoke differently. He made new sounds in bed, moved in different ways. She wrote it off to the extremes under which he'd been living. How could an experience like this not change anyone, she told herself. "It's alright, nothing to worry about" became her mantra. She almost managed to make herself believe it.

She tried not to pay attention to the gossip. She tried to ignore the squealing fangirls who insisted that "something" had to be going on. She read the stories, looked at the fanart. Silly little things. They didn't know him like she did.

Then there were the pictures. She started searching the internet for photos, and found plenty of them. Leaning in, she would study them, looking first at the eyes. She could see what the fangirls were on about, if she was honest with herself. Look at them together, they way their bodies angle so that they always touch. Look at the tightly clasped hands. See the way that lovely youth cranes his neck to maintain eye contact. See the adoration and desire written plainly all over his face.

A child, nothing more. Only a harmless crush. Nothing is happening. Nothing *will* happen.

But the photos were relentless. She couldn't stop herself from seeking them out. She watched as the eyes in the photos took on a knowing look, an easy, deep familiarity, so intimate that no words are needed. She saw the increasingly languid posture of the bodies as they relaxed against each other. One picture in particular made her gasp in horror and realization. They'd been snapped from the back as they stood close together. Behind them, where they thought it couldn't be seen, her husband's hand was curved very deliberately around the boy's thigh, right under his ass. It even looked like he was squeezing a bit.

Oh, God. No.

She told herself she was tired. She was reading too much into things, succumbing to Hollywood hype. She drowned herself in daily routine, and it almost worked. But his voice on the phone sounded different now, too. There were notes of false cheerfulness, as if he were acting the part of husband for her. She booked a trip to New Zealand - she would see for herself, prove to herself, that nothing was really going on. The first night she shared his bed, he said a name in his sleep. It wasn't hers. She never mentioned it to him. But deep in the night, she slipped out of bed and went to weep quietly in the bathroom.

When she booked her next trip, she didn't tell him. She arrived quietly, in disguise, in the middle of the night and stood outside his door, ear pressed to the crack, waiting breathlessly. Her heart pounded so hard it almost made her fall down right there in the hall. She heard voices in conversation. Laughter. Then nothing for a while. Maybe she was wrong. Maybe this was all a big mistake. She was almost ready to laugh at herself for being so stupid. Then it happened. An ecstatic, high-pitched voice cried out, muffled, but she knew who it was. There was no mistaking it.

"Oh, God ... Oh, God ... Sean ... "

Sean's voice responded, his words infused with passion.

"Elijah ... I love you so much ... "

She stood in stunned silence for a few seconds, then whipped out her cell phone and dialed the room. "I'm standing right outside your door," she said when he answered. Her voice was trembling. "I heard everything." He sucked in a breath of alarm. "EVERYTHING!" she yelled into the phone, then clapped it shut and took off towards the lift. She was gone by the time he opened the door.


She watches now, a diminutive figure at a cafe table, protected from prying eyes by a wig, sunglasses and baggy clothing. She pretends to read a book, but her eyes follow the children at the next table - two girls and a boy. The two younger ones bounce about, chattering a mile a minute, ignoring her. They don't know her, disguised as she is. She took care not to wear perfume today, so they can't smell her, either. It breaks her heart.

She knows the names of these children. Alexandra. Elizabeth. Ian. The boy climbs into his father's lap, demanding a bite of food. He receives it, the father laughing freely, openly, and glancing across the table into the smiling eyes of his partner, who is animatedly talking to the oldest girl as the younger one pulls at his sleeve.

His spouse, she reminds herself. The law had finally changed, and now he is gone from her in every way that matters. She has no more claim on him. The children will return to her in a month, but she needs to see them, to watch them with their new "parents". She wants to know what they have together that she and her husband did not.

It comes clear to her as the two men look at each other over the heads of the children. They are on fire, it seems - wildly ablaze with the flame of life, of love. Elijah's eyes are more alive and dazzling than ever, almost frightening in their intensity. Sean has a new glow about him. He's aging well, looking younger than he has in years. She can almost see the energy surrounding them, moving between them. Even the heady days of her courtship with him had not been like this. There's no question in her mind now - this magic is theirs alone. She winces and swallows hard, remembering the frank, unflinching words of her oldest daughter during a discussion of her father's new relationship.

"He was never like this before, Mom. He was never this happy until Elijah. They're soulmates. They'll *always* be together, you just have to accept that."

She's followed their story closely since he left. She still seeks out the photos, reads and watches the interviews. She still leans in and examines their eyes, some part of her hoping she'll find something different, but she never does. Every picture shows the same expression of calm, resolute devotion, the look worn by those who know without a doubt that they belong together. Who know they have finally come home.

She finishes her drink, forks the last bit of pastry into her mouth. Her bill is less than ten dollars, but she leaves a twenty on the table, weighted down by her coffee mug. She doesn't feel like dealing with the waiter right now. With a last glance at the happy family scene before her, she closes her book, wills herself up and out of the chair. And though the day is warm, she feels increasingly colder as she walks away from the cafe, away from the fiery miracle that is Sean and Elijah.