Not My Name
Disclaimer: They're not mine...blah blah blah...wish they were...blah blah blah.
Category/Summary: Other (?/?)
Author's Note: A very special thank you to Plu for taking the time to look this over and for encouraging me to get back on the fanfic writing bandwagon.
That's not my name.
She lets it slip from time to time, when emotions are running high.
I try to ignore it. I pretend not to hear it. But I do.
She says that name in her sleep and her voice is always so desperate, so longing.
She doesn't say my name like that. She never has. I don't think she ever will.
She has given her entire heart and soul to only one man and so she still calls out his name sometimes without even thinking about it.
And tonight is just another night that she lets that name slip, that she cries out to him in a moment of ecstasy.
And I try with all my might not to hate him for it.
And I try not to hear it.
Because it's not my name.
I sometimes wonder if she ever realizes what she does and, if so, what she feels afterwards.
Does she feel guilt? Sadness? Regret?
Or does she just feel longing for that name and the man who wore it?
Does she close her eyes to revel in the pleasure I give her?
Or does she try to block me out and replace my image with his behind her closed eyes?
It's hard to wonder these things about the woman you love your wife.
Even after all these years, I still sometimes wake to see her sitting by the window, staring up at the stars above. And after minutes sometimes hours of wistful gazing, she places her hand on the window as though trying to reach out to the stars as she mutters something to herself.
And I know it's not my name.
It took her almost 20 hours to give birth to our first son and I have never forgiven myself for not being there. The baby came about a month early and I was away on my last business trip before a self-imposed no-travel period so I could be there when he did enter this world.
Luckily, I was on my way home when I heard the news about her labor and made it to the hospital shortly after she gave birth.
Upon my arrival, I introduced myself to the nurses so they could direct me to the appropriate room and I saw the confusion on their faces.
Apparently, my wife had been calling out for someone during her labor.
But it was obvious by the looks on their faces that it was not my name.
So now I sit here, debating whether I can bear another day loving a woman who loves another more than me or if I could live a single day without her.
It is not an easy decision.
Until she calls out a name in her sleep.
A name that is not my name.