[ Claire listens attentively; this isn't only about her, about her marriage and life before. She listens and wants to reach out to take his hand in quiet support while he speaks, remembers nights of talking for hours on end about what she thought was their lives all from the comfort of his arms. And she hears, which is more important than listening in any case, and why the knot of guilt tightens in her gut. There is a pause before she speaks; it isn't easy for her to want Jon, it isn't as easy as shrugging Jamie off, and she worries that's how she comes across. ]
I understand the reasons you have, and I think most morally centered people would need to take a step back. You're right; as a child, even a younger person before being introduced to the real horrors of the world, things are so black and white. 'I will never' and 'I will always' come easily. Too easily because we simply don't know any better.
[ Something in her softens, loosens, as if the tension has been set free, even if momentarily. ]
As adults, we have the ability to see nuance and apply context. Some can do that more easily than others, or perhaps I'm attempting to make excuses for myself. Either way, I lived for twenty years in a nebulous space, faithful to a man so far away that he was a ghost, while someone right next to me wanted me, wanted to love me, be a husband.
[ Frank was by no means perfect, but he accepted her when he had every right not to. He did things she will always abhor, he took things from her, all but her ring, but he also tried. He tried harder than he had to, and she rejected him, stayed buried in her grief and never, ever moved on. ]
I could've chosen to be happy while keeping space to mourn and miss Jamie, but I didn't. I could make the same mistake again, but I won't.
[ Claire sounds a little more sure of herself, but still isn't positive there's anything she can say that makes her sound like less of a wandering wife. ]
I want to live my life, and if love is a part of that, if that's what happiness looks like, I don't want to push it away because something may or may not happen. I don't want to lose hundreds of years of happiness, even if...
[ Even if their status and history in Abraxas was a lie. Their feelings weren't, were they? ]
Even if I have to defend myself to Jamie. Tomorrow, two years from now, two hundred. I can't live another life wanting and feeling achingly alone.
no subject
I understand the reasons you have, and I think most morally centered people would need to take a step back. You're right; as a child, even a younger person before being introduced to the real horrors of the world, things are so black and white. 'I will never' and 'I will always' come easily. Too easily because we simply don't know any better.
[ Something in her softens, loosens, as if the tension has been set free, even if momentarily. ]
As adults, we have the ability to see nuance and apply context. Some can do that more easily than others, or perhaps I'm attempting to make excuses for myself. Either way, I lived for twenty years in a nebulous space, faithful to a man so far away that he was a ghost, while someone right next to me wanted me, wanted to love me, be a husband.
[ Frank was by no means perfect, but he accepted her when he had every right not to. He did things she will always abhor, he took things from her, all but her ring, but he also tried. He tried harder than he had to, and she rejected him, stayed buried in her grief and never, ever moved on. ]
I could've chosen to be happy while keeping space to mourn and miss Jamie, but I didn't. I could make the same mistake again, but I won't.
[ Claire sounds a little more sure of herself, but still isn't positive there's anything she can say that makes her sound like less of a wandering wife. ]
I want to live my life, and if love is a part of that, if that's what happiness looks like, I don't want to push it away because something may or may not happen. I don't want to lose hundreds of years of happiness, even if...
[ Even if their status and history in Abraxas was a lie. Their feelings weren't, were they? ]
Even if I have to defend myself to Jamie. Tomorrow, two years from now, two hundred. I can't live another life wanting and feeling achingly alone.