Invisible String

Chapter Three - Ain't It Just So Pretty To Think

"How is it okay for me to be understanding when you have to leave the country for a tour or when you're running off in 12 million different directions, doing the hundreds of projects you've decided to take on, but when I have to take on more work, which, by the way, isn't fun for me, either, you turn the tables to make it look like I'm the villain? It isn't the first time, either." His words are clipped.

The implications in his outburst are clear and she pushes back against the rising anger.

"Because my career's less important than yours. That's it, isn't it."

"C'mon, Stefani, that's not what I'm saying."

"You don't have to. I understand perfectly. You knew when we started dating that this life is my reality, David. You promised me that you were okay with that."

"And you knew that this was mine. I never hid from you what my career means to me. Not once. We can't have double standards at play, Stef. Not if we're going to have a future together."

The sunlight gleams off her engagement ring and listlessly, her eyes go to the sparkles it creates, the way it paints a smattering of fireworks across the concrete.

"Can we talk about this when you're home?"

It's like speaking to a stranger, with a stranger's words, and they burn the back of her throat as she says them.

"I don't know when that will be."

The idea of waiting, of sitting with the unknown, is so upsetting that it takes everything in her power not to scream.

Stefani takes a full breath, scratches the sleeping dog at her feet behind the ears, anything to get a fucking grip on herself.

"Well, when you find out, let me know. I think we really need to have a discussion."

The sigh from earlier is back; this time around, it sounds more resigned than anything else.

"I think so, too, actually. We'll figure it all out, honey," The sharp edges of his tone have softened. "I love you."

It feels like a reflex, the "I love you, too," and when she hangs up the phone, her stomach hurts.

Maybe it's right that love is slipping away. Maybe it's a part of some grand master plan the universe has for her and again, she has to believe that someone is trying to tell her something.

Miserable, she decides she needs a distraction and going for a swim seems just like the thing in mind.

As soon as her body hits that water, her mind clears. It feels good to focus on nothing but the steady, even strokes her arms and legs make to propel her forward, the capacity for breath that her lungs hold as she crosses the length of the pool.

After the third time, she breaks away to float on her back, closes her eyes to shut out the sun.

Her muscles melt into the surface of the water, dispelling all tension and it's then that the memory of the other day drifts back.

She'd been restless and nothing was fixing it. Real, genuine down time was somewhat of an anomaly and when it came up, she honestly didn't know what to do with herself.

"Chill out in front of the TV like a normal person," Natali would suggest whenever she complained. "Be glad you have a minute to yourself."

As much as she's grateful to be constantly moving, Stefani's also keenly aware that it's a coping mechanism, a way to avoid thinking about what's unpleasant, so the peace and quiet often seem stifling instead of relaxing.

That was the case on that rainy, dreary day. Oh, there were things she could've been doing, any number of which would've been highly more productive than the sitting around moping she'd elected to do instead. It was one of those days where the smallest thing irritated her. The buzzing of a text coming in. How a shade in the guest room seemed slightly crooked and kept making her tilt her head to one side, squinting critically. The sound of her own breathing, for Christsakes.