A/N : i woke up this morning and decided to write something, so here it is. Am considering entering it in a minor small-town publication, so thorough reviews are appreciated.

"Keaton!" she yells, slamming the screen door behind her. "Keat!"

I jolt up from my half-sleep as her sneakers squeak on the laminate floors, the paper grocery bags crumple in the kitchenette. I used to wait all day for these noises.

"Keat!"

I want to pretend to still be asleep, so I don't have to remember what day this is. The sun's been working on setting for a good half-hour by the time I finall get up. I crawl out from under the old woolen quilt and see the pink teddy, out of the corner of my eye on the floor. I hold it close to me for a moment, and put it on the bed. When I shuffle out to the living room and kiss my wife on the cheek, she purses her lips and glares, not sure of exactly what to do. There seems to be a lot of that going around lately.

"Hey," I whisper. She is beautiful. Her hair is thrown back into a loose ponytail, she's only wearing enough makeup to cover the bags under her eyes, and her red Target polo needs to be washed, but I'll do that later. She is the most radiant thing in the whole world.

"Hi," she replies. She looks at me for a second, trying to figure out what it is, but then she whips her head around and starts putting the groceries in the fridge.

"What is it?" I ask, leaning against the counter.

"What?"

"You were calling for me. What did you need?"

"Oh. It's--- nothing. Nothing,"

"Oh, okay," I mumble as I start putting things away. "I just thought it was important."

"It can wait," she says into the pantry.

We finish putting the groceries away in silence, save the casual "how was your day", and she disappears into the bedroom to take a shower and change.

We used to call it "our bedroom".

It's not all it's cracked up to be, having your own place in high school. When it comes down to it, it's really just a lot of bills; a lot of fights. A lot of disappointment.

So I make the bed and put some clothes in to wash, and sit on the couch and read, waiting for Mel to come back out. She's a great girl. Shakespeare married young and was praised his whole life. We were ostracized. Everyone always says we "were" this or that; that we "had" a lot of potential, but I didn't let it get to me. She agreed with them wholeheartedly.

"Keat?" she whispers from the doorway, her hair stringy and wet.

I dog-ear my book and stand up.

"No," she leans on the arm, "just sit,"

"Is this about earlier?"

"Yes,"

The hairs on the back of my neck stand up. I want to pretend like I don't know why or what this is about, but I do.

"Please sit with me,"

She hesitates, but comes and lets me hold her.

"We need—"

"I know," I interrupt. My eyes start to fill up and my voice cracks. I know she wants to cry, too, but she doesn't. I kiss the top of her head. "I know,"

"We'll go to the funeral together, okay?" Her voice wavers now. She takes my hand and kisses my palm, just like she used to. I wrap my fingers around hers and look at her wedding band: gold with little rubies. It was my Aunt Kate's. She was in the hospital when she gave it to me, severe lung cancer. That's how most of my memories of her are: her, holding a cigarette. She would always tell me, "Don't you ever dare to do this,". She supplied my parties with beer and let Mel stay the night when things were bad. Those were things that were temporary, she would say, alcohol wears off, fights end, but some things just don't.

I guess a baby falls into that category.

"Keaton?" Mel says. "Keat?"

"Hmm? Oh, sorry, I was—"

"In another world again," she sighs, slightly smiling. "It's okay. You know, that's one of the things I liked most about you when I first came here, how you could just…leave. Even in the middle of a party, you would just walk outside—"

"Please don't,"

She stops talking and turns her head to look at me. She's mad now.

"What?"

"Please stop talking,"

She snaps. She rips my arm from around me, and it hurts like hell, but she needs to hurt something, and I deserve it.

"Do you think this is okay with me, either?" she spits. "I'm trying to make things better! I'm trying to think about before—"

"Before I did this to you?" I purse my lips and my hands clench. "Before I ruined it?" and my eyes decide this is a perfect time to play "Guess What Waterfall I Am?"

"Yes, okay! Yes!" she jumps off the couch and leans over, into my face. "You thought because you were some hot-shot rockstar you could just do whatever the hell you wanted! You thought—"

"You have no IDEA what I thought! You can't make this better! I can't make this better! Nothing anyone does will change it! If I could fix it for you, I would! Believe me Mel, I would…" my head sinks into my hands and we both become very quiet.

"Killing yourself? Huh!" She yells finally, "Was that your idea of fixing it for me? Leaving me alone after something like that! My daughter--"

"She was my daughter too!" I scream at the floor. "She was my world! I loved her, and now she's---" No. I can't say it. If I say it, it's real.

"I didn't love her? Is that what you're trying to say, Keaton? I let her go because I love her!" She stands over me for a while, and we both stop talking for I don't know how long. It might have been hours, and I just listen to the cars roll by on the road, happy people in their decent lives, oblivious to the ones crumbling in this house that was never quite a home.

"I can't help…but think sometimes…..if we hadn't--"

"Well I'm sorry I convinced you to sleep with me, okay?! I'm sorry I thought I loved you! You didn't have to ask me to marry you! God, what a piece of work!"

"That's not what I'm talking about, Mel!" I finally look up at her, and I finally have enough breath to speak. "I'm talking about giv--…..giving her up….if we hadn't…..why? What's the point in....having a child.......if you can't hold her?.....watch her?"

Suddenly, she looks very defiant and strong. "An abortion? Kill my child!" She scoffed. "Because I wanted my daughter to live."

I want nothing more than to hit her. "That did you a lot of good," I say , without even looking up at her. Shit, did I just say that?

"How ....fucking..dare you!" Now she wants nothiong more than to hit me. She should. She should knock me out cold and forever, so this wouldn't go on and we wouldn't have to pretend that we're not drowning in the emptiness of the cradle in the spare room.

"I'm sorry!" I blurt. "Mel, I don't mean it, I'm sorry.......so sorry!" My neck snaps and my head falls into my hands again. I think this is what a heart attack feels like.

She looks at me with her mouth open, like she's about to say something, her lips quivering, her face pallid, until she falls into a heap with her head on my lap.

"I'm sorry….I'm sorry…….so sorry…." She whispers between sobs. I slide off the couch, onto the floor and hold her. That's all I ever wanted to do. "It was me," she cries. "I……. didn't want to………hol—hold you back…….it's my fault……god, I killed her!"

"No," I hold in the tears for a moment and hold her shoulders up. "No one killed anyone. Hear me, Mel? No one."

"I put her…" she sobs "…I put her in the car…...with them…....I kissed her and she smiled at me….. and then she died—"

"Stop it."

"--the whole thing up in flames--"

"It was a drunk driver. No one saw it coming."

"I should've," she nods her head. "It was late….a really late visit…she shouldn't have been up---- up that late."

We cry for a long time together, until her hair is dry.

"Oh my god," she murmurs at last. "Today is her birthday,"

"I know."

"Our daughter's first birthday….."

"I still have the teddy bear….the one they thought they lost….from the first time they brought her over. I found it……I couldn't give it back….I couldn't do it…"

"What…..what are we gonna do, Keat?

" I don't know, Mel……I don't know…."

I kiss the top of her head again ang we sit there, crying on the floor together. We say that we're sorry to each other and to out little girl, and I even pray for the first time since confirmation. She holds me closer and tighter, and I want her to. And the most amazing thing happened the next day :

The sun came up.