Modern Fairytale ~ #Wattys2015

Metropolitan Confessions

"Regina?" His voice was timid. She hadn't blinked for nearly a minute and her trembling only grew worse.

Robin felt absolutely horrible. He should have known, but how could he? She never even mentioned the name 'Daniel' and if Henry didn't share the same surname, he'd be clueless right now. That didn't change how he felt though; his heart slowly breaking at the sight of her.

"Regina, why don't you sit? You can take all the time you need. I'll wait in the lobby," he said, his words catching her attention. She turned to him so quickly, grabbing hold of his blazer as if her life depended on it.

"Don't," she whispered to keep her voice from cracking. "Please. Don't leave me."

Her pleading tone held so much subtext, he could tell, and it caused a heaviness in his chest that he couldn't cope with. He pulled her close to him in a tight embrace, wanting to hold her until the pain went away. He didn't understand what she was feeling or what was happening. He could only gather that it affected her deeply and negatively. That fact alone was enough to haunt his soul.

When her breathing settled, he released his hold on her and looked into her eyes. She was back; not entirely, but he could see her mind returning to the present as he gazed into them. She nodded and loosened her grip on his jacket before he led them to a bench at the center of the gallery.

They were silent for what seemed like hours, his arm around her and her head leaning against his chest. His other hand was placed on her thigh as his thumb traced a soothing pattern along her exposed flesh. He would stay like this for as long as it took for her to feel whole again. So he remained quiet and waited for her to give him a signal that it was okay; that she would be okay.

"I didn't think it would still be here," she finally said, neither of them moving as they spoke. "It's been years and it's still hanging."

"It is exceptional," Robin offered, unsure if that was the right thing to say.

"He was exceptional," she whispered, sitting up then and straightening her posture. She cleared her throat and he brought his hands to his own lap, allowing her a minute to compose herself.

Based on her initial reaction, he hadn't expected her to describe him that way. It didn't upset him in the slightest. He just wished he could understand: Did he abandon them? Was he a washed up artist and Regina left him? There was history there and he wanted to know it, but truthfully, it wasn't Robin's business. Or so he thought. But how could he comfort her without knowing what happened?

"He's Henry's father," Robin said; it was a statement, not a question. He wanted her to know that he knew at least that much and he was still sitting here with her, wanting to know more. Regina nodded, fidgeting with her fingers as she searched for the words she wanted to say. He said nothing more after that, allowing her to talk for as long as she needed to.

"We met as undergrads at NYU; I was an English major and he was studying Art Education. He wanted to be an art teacher for kids about Roland's age. He really would have been great at it," she let out a soft, breathy laugh before continuing her story.

She explained how they met in a pottery class at the university; she chose it as her general art requirement and he was the Teaching Assistant. She recalled with great fondness the moment she fell in love with Daniel. She was struggling to shape the opening of her pot and he came up behind her, placed his hands over hers, and they shaped the clay together.