beth's wardrobe
thursday, 21st may - something's wrong. she can feel it in the air, and can't quite pinpoint it. she feels it when she wakes up in the morning, before her eyes open. a certain dread, like it was a day she doesn't want to wake up for. that kind of day that begins with tea spilt all over the couch, as she gripes at the dogs for trying to lick it up. her husband is nowhere to be found. it doesn't worry her; he's been spending lots of time at his work-in-progress store. or maybe the bar. she doesn't know, and doesn't worry. she's never one to distrust pete lord, but that strange feeling still lingers. she takes the dogs for a walk, runs some errands, gets out of the flat for a while.
late thursday evening finds beth spinning on the barstool at the kitchen island, her laptop on the cool countertop. she's home alone once more, as it always was before pete had moved in. well, save for the dogs. she spins and spins, struggling to make a decision on anything, everything. her dance studio's grand opening has been delayed for nearly three weeks now, and it's ready for the public. but, it doesn't feel like the right time just yet. almost as if her gut is telling her she has another project she should be working on instead. her mind wanders to her husband again, and she swears she's checked her phone what feels like a hundred times, but no message from him. she's bored. is she bored because he's not there, or because she's pushing away that strange feeling with boredom? she stops spinning finally, instead deciding to engage her friends in a little cyber truth-or-dare.
friday, 22nd may - beth awakes covered in sweat. by the time she wakes, the temperature has reached 70 degrees outside, and she hasn't prepared. the fan has been on, but not the air conditioning, and she slowly kicks the covers away from her warm body. she feels the bed next to her is heavy--it's pete. he smells like liquor. her question from the previous night is answered, and he is deep asleep. for a moment, she wonders how he got home, but she vaguely recalls hearing a sultry southern accent, her favourite one, telling her goodnight. she trusts anna, always, and doesn't question for a single moment why she was the one that brought her husband home last night, instead of beth. it was either her, or eli.
a cool shower and a thermostat adjustment starts her day, and she doesn't bother eating breakfast. she isn't hungry for some reason. she walks the dogs again, this time happy she decided to wear more comfortable shoes. she brings her cardigan with her to the dance studio, with the plans to turn the thermostat down as low as she can, until she can get cool again. it's almost therapeutic to be in her studio anymore--one particular room draws to her. she feels an aura in it, as if a familiar soul has been there. she wishes she could pinpoint it, but her heart already has. there's no way he was there...she would've remembered that. but...
saturday 23rd may - this morning, she wakes up before the sun. she can't sleep very well anymore. she skips her cup of tea before she walks the dogs, her pace slower than usual. her joints ache from the stark temperature change--mid-fifties at six in the morning. she is used to this kind of weather, the overcast and dreary kind; it fits her mood lately. not bothering with breakfast, she instead makes a walk to the nearest bus stop. not sure where she's headed to, but she knows she needs to go somewhere...else. lately it's been her flat, the studio, her flat, the studio, and she needs a change in scenery. with no plans, she hops on the first bus that arrives and stares out the window the whole trip. hopping from bus to bus, not paying attention to where she's going, she ends up there...in front of wainwright industries. why is she there? she feels drawn to the building for some reason. rather than entering, she sits on a bench across the street, people-watching. she feels like she's waiting, but she's not sure what she's waiting for.
rather than go to the studio or home, beth makes a decision to head for the airport, the one out of town. she owns a private hangar there, where she used to keep her own plane. she can't remember if it's there or back home--why it would be home, she doesn't know, but when she arrives at the hangar, it's not there. she assumes her brother has taken it home, assuredly finding someone else to pilot the bradford plane instead of his twin sister. she expects something else to be there...but not sure what. an empty hangar leaves her more confused than she expects.
sunday 24th may - she awakes, coughing. another hot morning and she's covered in sweat and dog kisses. she feels a bit woozy--she can't remember the last time she ate. quite frankly, she has no idea what time it is. pete isn't in bed with her, and though she is sure he likely walked the dogs in the morning, she goes out with them anyway. pulling on a random t-shirt and shorts, she cares less today about what she's wearing than usual--what is it about this week? she feels like she's being pulled in two directions. of course, she loves her husband, but she's been having dreams about other men. well, one man: liam wainwright. it's almost as if he's made his way back in to her life somehow, but she hasn't been talking to him much. not at all, not that she can remember. but twice before within the same weekend, she felt him with her somehow. and again on sunday afternoon, while getting coffee. she swears she sees him at starbucks, but the man turns--it's not him. her thumb runs across her left ring finger, the absence of her usual simple gold band bothering her. she doesn't remember what she's done with it, after having worn it for months at that point. she worries a diamond ring that means much more to her, to pete, would get lost in a heartbeat. she's not the type to lose jewelry, particularly important pieces, but lately, she's not too sure.
she's spoken with pete, but it's been small talk. it doesn't feel like conversation at all. chatter about taking the dogs out, checking the mail, what's with this weather? things the couple doesn't usually speak about, at least exclusively. she realises what shirt she's wearing--it had, at one point, been a favourite of hers. now? it almost hurts. she can't remove it in public, not while she's walking out of starbucks with a frappuccino. she gives herself a mental note for later, to change her shirt or otherwise figure out what's wrong. she figures the former is easier than the latter.
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monday 25th may - in what could be constituted as the lower point of a downward slide, beth doesn't bother getting dressed at all. she wakes up in time to see pete take the dogs for a walk, and though she wakes up and showers, she puts on only a barely-there tank and lacy bottoms. it makes her feel sexy, lazy, and ... good for some reason. she lays in bed in her lack of clothing, staring at the ceiling as she feels the cool air conditioning wash over her skin. goosebumps form across her dark skin as she sighs, her eyes closing. what she wouldn't give for some understanding, some kind of hint as to what is wrong. with her, with pete, with just...things. things don't feel right, not like they used to, and she can't fix them until she knows the cause. a deep thought crosses her mind and a spark of recognition--she's seen liam, recently.
at least, that's what someone else thought at one point. was that why pete was acting so strange? and he took that word over her own, when she was (and is) more sure about her innocence in the matter than anything else in her life or otherwise. over the course of a few days, her mood had spiraled from okay to bummed to downright depressed, and she hadn't even realised it. she didn't put makeup on yesterday, she remembers. she only ate something in the evening, because she needed sweets. her dinner on sunday night was the rest of a tin of cookies. her eyes open as she sits up in bed a bit, the tank bunching up above her stomach. a hint of understanding leads to a wave of regret, for something she is absolutely positive she didn't do. all she wants is to see her husband.
as if he was summoned, he appears in the bedroom door, his eyes on her.
