The Betrothed
for National Novel Writing Month
Day 26
Even before he opened the door to their room, Darrick could hear the subdued weeping coming from within. Alarmed, he walked in on guard, adrenaline already rushing through his system in response to all that he imagined he might find there. Instead of finding wrathful family or the victim of some accident, however, there was only Abby sitting in a chair with her head in her hands, and Angela bending over her with a comforting hand on her shoulder. Darrick couldn’t see Abby’s face, but her shoulders were shaking slightly in time with her sobs.
“What happened?” he asked, eyes darting back and forth trying to locate the source of Abby’s distress. Even though he could find no visible threat, his agitation did not lessen; rather, it focused on the easiest available target. “What did you do?!” he demanded of Angela as he rushed over to see to his wife. Angela’s eyes opened wide in surprise as she straightened to talk to him.
“I didn’t do anything,” she responded, a bit annoyed herself. “Abby had a panic attack at the art store. I brought her back. Now calm down and don’t make her any worse.” Darrick almost didn’t notice the rebuke; he was completely focused on Abby.
“A panic attack?” he asked, confused, going down on one knee to talk to his wife face to face. “Why?”
“I don’t know,” Abby responded roughly, removing her hands from her face. She reached out and touched Angela’s hand. “Thank you for bringing me home, Angela. I’ll be alright from here.” She tried to smile, but it was a weak, sickly thing. Angela looked doubtful.
“Yes, thank you,” Darrick said, ashamed of his earlier accusation. “Let me talk to her.”
“Okay, then,” Angela said eventually. “If you need anything,” she said to Abby, “just let me know.” Turning to Darrick, she added, “Be easy on her, Darrick. She’s had a rough day.” She waited until Darrick nodded his acknowledgment, then left.
“So what happened?” he asked once Angela had left. Now that the initial rush was over, he was feeling jittery, but he forced himself to focus on Abby. She stayed silent for a minute longer, breathing deeply to try to calm herself down; finally, she recovered enough to speak.
“I’ve . . . I’ve never felt anything like it before,” she said, looking at Darrick with a look of rising agitation. Darrick was worried that she might be panicking again, but before he could say anything she continued. “Angela called it a panic attack, but it’s not like any kind of fear or panic I’ve ever felt before. I was trying to buy art supplies, and I just couldn’t do it. There were too many choices. I couldn’t make a decision. I didn’t even know where to begin.” She tried to smile ironically, but it came out more like a grimace. “I’ve certainly never had any doubts knowing my opinions any other time. I . . . I had to leave. It was so embarrassing, I couldn’t bear the thought of everyone looking at me.”
That’s pretty silly, Darrick thought, but he knew enough not to say it out loud. Still, Abby appeared to be recovering from her scare, so Darrick started to stand up.
“NO!” Abby exploded, her hands striking out to grab his arm, her expression wild. “Don’t leave me!” In response, Darrick’s agitation, building for days, suddenly transmuted to anger; he nearly snatched his arms away, wanting nothing more than to be away from this weeping girl who was suddenly a stranger to him. He was able to restrain himself in time, stopping his words even as he opened his mouth to tell her roughly to get a hold of herself. In the same instant, Abby appeared to realize what had happened, and pulled her own hands back. She looked down at them as though surprised at their actions. They both stood in frozen, stunned silence, each unsure of what next to say or do.
“I’m sorry,” Abby finally said in a whisper. “I don’t know what came over me. I felt like you were going away, and I couldn’t bear the thought of losing you.” She closed her eyes and visibly pulled herself together. When she opened them again, they seemed clearer, and her whole body relaxed. “I think I’m doing better now. Crazy girl’s back in the asylum. Or she’s no longer in control, at least.”
“I’m sorry, too,” Darrick responded, even though he hadn’t said anything. But for a moment there, he had been unreasonably, unpredictably furious; for a moment, he hadn’t loved the frightened girl in front of him, he had hated her. Now, just a minute later, he couldn’t imagine why. All he wanted was for his wife to be happy. Why would he be angry just because she didn’t want him to leave her? “Is there anything I can do for you?” Abby shook her head.
“No, really, I’m fine now,” she said, taking one final cleaning gulp of air. She ran one finger down the front of his shirt, hooking it finally around his belt. Her smile widened wickedly. “Though, if you really want me to feel good, there is one thing you can do . . .”
Darrick captured her finger and brought it to her lips, and pulling her up out of the chair, they both stumbled their way into the bedroom, laughing all the way, both eager to find a way to put the last few minutes behind them.
Late that night, Abby lay awake in bed. She was exhausted, drained from the day’s extremes, but she couldn’t manage to fall asleep. She still couldn’t believe what had happened earlier. Not just what Angela had called a panic attack, though she had never experienced anything like that before, and had not believed that a person could be so terrified, especially by such a commonplace experience. It was what had happened afterwards that was truly bothering her. For a few moments, she had become something she had never believed she could be – a weak, simpering damsel in distress, helpless until her heroic prince came along to rescue her. And he hadn’t even done anything; she had been terrified just by the idea that he might walk across the room without her. I lived on my own for two years to prove that I could, to find out who I was without my family or my betrothed, and one fright is all it takes to send me running for him to save me. Pathetic. Why would he want me after that? Is this the bond? Is this what Darrick wants? What if it is exactly what he wants? I don’t want to be that person! No, I can’t believe that of him. I know him; he wants someone strong, not a woman who can’t support herself without him. But the nagging doubt remained, and she couldn’t shake the feeling that Darrick was only just tolerating her now. That he didn’t really want her, couldn’t really want her, the bond notwithstanding.
She supposed that she could ask him, but he yet to come to bed. She knew that she had turned in early; she had been fighting the desire to go to bed for hours, and had finally given in to the urge before ten o’clock, well before Darrick felt like retiring. Their bedroom romp earlier in the day, as nice as it had been, hadn’t had the affect on her that she had hoped. Instead of energizing and reassuring her, it had only left her feeling more empty and lethargic, and she had struggled to function for the rest of the day. Darrick, on the other hand, appeared not only energized but actually hyper. He had not been able to sit still afterwords, not to cuddle in bed, not even to watch television or read a book. Instead, he had taken to cleaning and organizing their room. Not because it was necessary – indeed, their sparsely-furnished room stayed clean and neat almost automatically, because there was so little to clutter it up – but because he did not seem able to stop himself. What if he’s avoiding me? What if he can’t stand to talk to me or even look at me anymore? Maybe staying busy is better than having anything to do with me! Stop it! Has the evil count locked you in the tower? Then stop playing the helpless lady waiting to be rescued! Abby couldn’t understand herself. She wasn’t the kind to obsess about what others thought of her; she had always practically dared others to take her as she was. But now she couldn’t stop wondering what Darrick thought of her, if he was disgusted by her cowardice. She wanted to slap some sense into herself.
Looking at the bedside clock, she was astonished to find it was two in the morning. Two in the morning, and Darrick had still not come to bed. Two in the morning, and she had still not slept a wink. She pulled the pillow over her head, praying that her mind would quiet and sleep would come, but the nagging thoughts would not go away. Then she heard the front door slam, and her heart plunged into her feet.
Oh, no. He’s gone.
Outside in the living room, Darrick was circling, unable to find anything else to do with his energy, but unable to bring himself to go to bed or even sit down. He had not before realized how incredibly boring the world was at 2 AM. Abby was doubtlessly asleep, so he had to be quiet – he didn’t want to disturb her rest after the rough day she had had – and the added pressure to not make noise was just adding to his nervous energy. He had the TV turned on to CNN, but the sound was off, leaving only the type along the bottom of the screen to follow what was going on. He had hoped that the television could provide something to occupy his racing thoughts, but it wasn’t nearly enough to completely hold his attention. Every now and then he would pick up some little object – a cup left on the table or a book on the couch – but then set it right back down, unsure of what to do with it. Not only was his extra energy unwanted, it was apparently also useless.
Even worse than his physical overdrive were his jumpy emotions. In just a few moments, he felt in turn excited, anxious, angry, elated. They even weren’t directed at anything in particular; indeed, his mind felt incapable of focusing on any one thing in particular. He just felt, and what he felt kept shifting. He just wanted it to stop. He envied Abby. Yes, her bizarre panic attack had left her drained and frightened, but she was able to sleep through it. No doubt she would awaken tomorrow completely recovered, ready to take on the world with her usual abandon. How he admired that in her. She was such a remarkable woman. Surely today had been an anomaly; after all, he had never seen anything like that in her before, and they had barely been out of each other’s company for the past six months. No, she would be fine tomorrow. Darrick only wished he could say that of himself.
Okay, this isn’t doing anything. Maybe if I had more than ten feet to go in either direction, I could walk this out. He grabbed his jacket and his keys. He was almost to the door when he wondered if he should wake up Abby to go with him. They both loved walking at night together through the neighborhood; the old houses and broken brick sidewalks set an incredibly romantic mood underneath the bright moon, and they had enjoyed more than one late-night romantic interlude in the park, seen only by the ducks who gathered around hoping to be fed. He almost turned back to see if she would join him, but stopped himself at the last second. No, she’s sleeping. At least one of us can get some. If I still feel like this tomorrow, I’ll suggest it then. He headed out the door, not realizing that he had slammed it behind him.
He hadn’t noticed that he had left the television on. A silent reporter was discussing the rising tensions on the Korean border, which had just now led to a small exchange of gunfire. Talks were proceeding to try to defuse the situation.
for National Novel Writing Month
Day 26
Even before he opened the door to their room, Darrick could hear the subdued weeping coming from within. Alarmed, he walked in on guard, adrenaline already rushing through his system in response to all that he imagined he might find there. Instead of finding wrathful family or the victim of some accident, however, there was only Abby sitting in a chair with her head in her hands, and Angela bending over her with a comforting hand on her shoulder. Darrick couldn’t see Abby’s face, but her shoulders were shaking slightly in time with her sobs.
“What happened?” he asked, eyes darting back and forth trying to locate the source of Abby’s distress. Even though he could find no visible threat, his agitation did not lessen; rather, it focused on the easiest available target. “What did you do?!” he demanded of Angela as he rushed over to see to his wife. Angela’s eyes opened wide in surprise as she straightened to talk to him.
“I didn’t do anything,” she responded, a bit annoyed herself. “Abby had a panic attack at the art store. I brought her back. Now calm down and don’t make her any worse.” Darrick almost didn’t notice the rebuke; he was completely focused on Abby.
“A panic attack?” he asked, confused, going down on one knee to talk to his wife face to face. “Why?”
“I don’t know,” Abby responded roughly, removing her hands from her face. She reached out and touched Angela’s hand. “Thank you for bringing me home, Angela. I’ll be alright from here.” She tried to smile, but it was a weak, sickly thing. Angela looked doubtful.
“Yes, thank you,” Darrick said, ashamed of his earlier accusation. “Let me talk to her.”
“Okay, then,” Angela said eventually. “If you need anything,” she said to Abby, “just let me know.” Turning to Darrick, she added, “Be easy on her, Darrick. She’s had a rough day.” She waited until Darrick nodded his acknowledgment, then left.
“So what happened?” he asked once Angela had left. Now that the initial rush was over, he was feeling jittery, but he forced himself to focus on Abby. She stayed silent for a minute longer, breathing deeply to try to calm herself down; finally, she recovered enough to speak.
“I’ve . . . I’ve never felt anything like it before,” she said, looking at Darrick with a look of rising agitation. Darrick was worried that she might be panicking again, but before he could say anything she continued. “Angela called it a panic attack, but it’s not like any kind of fear or panic I’ve ever felt before. I was trying to buy art supplies, and I just couldn’t do it. There were too many choices. I couldn’t make a decision. I didn’t even know where to begin.” She tried to smile ironically, but it came out more like a grimace. “I’ve certainly never had any doubts knowing my opinions any other time. I . . . I had to leave. It was so embarrassing, I couldn’t bear the thought of everyone looking at me.”
That’s pretty silly, Darrick thought, but he knew enough not to say it out loud. Still, Abby appeared to be recovering from her scare, so Darrick started to stand up.
“NO!” Abby exploded, her hands striking out to grab his arm, her expression wild. “Don’t leave me!” In response, Darrick’s agitation, building for days, suddenly transmuted to anger; he nearly snatched his arms away, wanting nothing more than to be away from this weeping girl who was suddenly a stranger to him. He was able to restrain himself in time, stopping his words even as he opened his mouth to tell her roughly to get a hold of herself. In the same instant, Abby appeared to realize what had happened, and pulled her own hands back. She looked down at them as though surprised at their actions. They both stood in frozen, stunned silence, each unsure of what next to say or do.
“I’m sorry,” Abby finally said in a whisper. “I don’t know what came over me. I felt like you were going away, and I couldn’t bear the thought of losing you.” She closed her eyes and visibly pulled herself together. When she opened them again, they seemed clearer, and her whole body relaxed. “I think I’m doing better now. Crazy girl’s back in the asylum. Or she’s no longer in control, at least.”
“I’m sorry, too,” Darrick responded, even though he hadn’t said anything. But for a moment there, he had been unreasonably, unpredictably furious; for a moment, he hadn’t loved the frightened girl in front of him, he had hated her. Now, just a minute later, he couldn’t imagine why. All he wanted was for his wife to be happy. Why would he be angry just because she didn’t want him to leave her? “Is there anything I can do for you?” Abby shook her head.
“No, really, I’m fine now,” she said, taking one final cleaning gulp of air. She ran one finger down the front of his shirt, hooking it finally around his belt. Her smile widened wickedly. “Though, if you really want me to feel good, there is one thing you can do . . .”
Darrick captured her finger and brought it to her lips, and pulling her up out of the chair, they both stumbled their way into the bedroom, laughing all the way, both eager to find a way to put the last few minutes behind them.
* * * * *
Late that night, Abby lay awake in bed. She was exhausted, drained from the day’s extremes, but she couldn’t manage to fall asleep. She still couldn’t believe what had happened earlier. Not just what Angela had called a panic attack, though she had never experienced anything like that before, and had not believed that a person could be so terrified, especially by such a commonplace experience. It was what had happened afterwards that was truly bothering her. For a few moments, she had become something she had never believed she could be – a weak, simpering damsel in distress, helpless until her heroic prince came along to rescue her. And he hadn’t even done anything; she had been terrified just by the idea that he might walk across the room without her. I lived on my own for two years to prove that I could, to find out who I was without my family or my betrothed, and one fright is all it takes to send me running for him to save me. Pathetic. Why would he want me after that? Is this the bond? Is this what Darrick wants? What if it is exactly what he wants? I don’t want to be that person! No, I can’t believe that of him. I know him; he wants someone strong, not a woman who can’t support herself without him. But the nagging doubt remained, and she couldn’t shake the feeling that Darrick was only just tolerating her now. That he didn’t really want her, couldn’t really want her, the bond notwithstanding.
She supposed that she could ask him, but he yet to come to bed. She knew that she had turned in early; she had been fighting the desire to go to bed for hours, and had finally given in to the urge before ten o’clock, well before Darrick felt like retiring. Their bedroom romp earlier in the day, as nice as it had been, hadn’t had the affect on her that she had hoped. Instead of energizing and reassuring her, it had only left her feeling more empty and lethargic, and she had struggled to function for the rest of the day. Darrick, on the other hand, appeared not only energized but actually hyper. He had not been able to sit still afterwords, not to cuddle in bed, not even to watch television or read a book. Instead, he had taken to cleaning and organizing their room. Not because it was necessary – indeed, their sparsely-furnished room stayed clean and neat almost automatically, because there was so little to clutter it up – but because he did not seem able to stop himself. What if he’s avoiding me? What if he can’t stand to talk to me or even look at me anymore? Maybe staying busy is better than having anything to do with me! Stop it! Has the evil count locked you in the tower? Then stop playing the helpless lady waiting to be rescued! Abby couldn’t understand herself. She wasn’t the kind to obsess about what others thought of her; she had always practically dared others to take her as she was. But now she couldn’t stop wondering what Darrick thought of her, if he was disgusted by her cowardice. She wanted to slap some sense into herself.
Looking at the bedside clock, she was astonished to find it was two in the morning. Two in the morning, and Darrick had still not come to bed. Two in the morning, and she had still not slept a wink. She pulled the pillow over her head, praying that her mind would quiet and sleep would come, but the nagging thoughts would not go away. Then she heard the front door slam, and her heart plunged into her feet.
Oh, no. He’s gone.
* * * * *
Outside in the living room, Darrick was circling, unable to find anything else to do with his energy, but unable to bring himself to go to bed or even sit down. He had not before realized how incredibly boring the world was at 2 AM. Abby was doubtlessly asleep, so he had to be quiet – he didn’t want to disturb her rest after the rough day she had had – and the added pressure to not make noise was just adding to his nervous energy. He had the TV turned on to CNN, but the sound was off, leaving only the type along the bottom of the screen to follow what was going on. He had hoped that the television could provide something to occupy his racing thoughts, but it wasn’t nearly enough to completely hold his attention. Every now and then he would pick up some little object – a cup left on the table or a book on the couch – but then set it right back down, unsure of what to do with it. Not only was his extra energy unwanted, it was apparently also useless.
Even worse than his physical overdrive were his jumpy emotions. In just a few moments, he felt in turn excited, anxious, angry, elated. They even weren’t directed at anything in particular; indeed, his mind felt incapable of focusing on any one thing in particular. He just felt, and what he felt kept shifting. He just wanted it to stop. He envied Abby. Yes, her bizarre panic attack had left her drained and frightened, but she was able to sleep through it. No doubt she would awaken tomorrow completely recovered, ready to take on the world with her usual abandon. How he admired that in her. She was such a remarkable woman. Surely today had been an anomaly; after all, he had never seen anything like that in her before, and they had barely been out of each other’s company for the past six months. No, she would be fine tomorrow. Darrick only wished he could say that of himself.
Okay, this isn’t doing anything. Maybe if I had more than ten feet to go in either direction, I could walk this out. He grabbed his jacket and his keys. He was almost to the door when he wondered if he should wake up Abby to go with him. They both loved walking at night together through the neighborhood; the old houses and broken brick sidewalks set an incredibly romantic mood underneath the bright moon, and they had enjoyed more than one late-night romantic interlude in the park, seen only by the ducks who gathered around hoping to be fed. He almost turned back to see if she would join him, but stopped himself at the last second. No, she’s sleeping. At least one of us can get some. If I still feel like this tomorrow, I’ll suggest it then. He headed out the door, not realizing that he had slammed it behind him.
He hadn’t noticed that he had left the television on. A silent reporter was discussing the rising tensions on the Korean border, which had just now led to a small exchange of gunfire. Talks were proceeding to try to defuse the situation.
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