Walking The Line Ch. 07

Things are going about as well as one could ask for.

Chris, unfortunately, got an eyeful of dirty talk and poorly taken pictures when he used Hazel's phone yesterday to order takeout for them. He hadn't meant to snoop, or even glance at it for that matter. But when the verification code for the delivery app popped up at the same time as one of Hazel's booty calls, of course, he ended up seeing something he'd rather forget.

He's not entirely sure why, but it feels somewhat reassuring to note that absolutely nothing has changed in their relationship. He's sure that he realistically should be more broken up about it all, but his pain is slowly morphing into something else entirely. A frankensteined monster of an emotion; he's not sure he should even recognize what's happening in his psyche. He's okay for now, and that's what matters. One day at a time should suffice.

The day after the takeout incident Chris ends up getting emotionally sucker punched twice in a row, albeit for entirely different reasons. First, Avery texts him like she usually does. She bounces around between flirtatious and serious. Sometimes acting like his booty call, and other times an overly nosy neighbor. "Did you hear what the HOA just did?" "Can you believe the city council banned rainwater collection?" Stuff Chris would never have bothered to look up on his own, and he finds it somewhat surprising that Avery is a dutiful neighborhood advocate. It takes all types to run a village, though.

They engage in a conversation in which Avery ends up suggesting grief counseling for Chris. It takes him aback; the concern she shows is both touching and unsettling. They don't know each other well enough to have a relationship where they give each other emotional or medical advice, but for some reason, she's still right on the money. He's been indecisive about Hazel. Fucking Avery regularly is not a choice, not in the strict sense. If anything, he's delaying the inevitable, refusing to look at his feelings simply because they aren't the picture-perfect aesthetic version of grief. Who would have sympathy for him where he is? He wouldn't blame anyone for accusing him of the same sin as his wife.

And yet he feels torn, gravitating towards Avery's strong advice. Is it because it's genuinely a good idea? Joining a grief support group and the like? Or does the advice hold weight simply because she was the one to suggest it? He would have taken it more with a grain of salt had Sam said it, but then again, he never would.

Chris wanders down the driveway, thoughtful as he mulls over Avery's words and their conversation as a whole. The trash can thunks along behind him, wobbly as one of the two wheels threatens to forcibly dislocate itself and make a break for it.

He arrives at the end of the driveway and hauls the ugly green thing to the curb, dusting his hands off once it's in place. It's oddly heavy, likely due to the inordinate amount of food they ordered last night.

Chris turns and nearly jumps out of his skin once he notices who's standing next to him. He was so lost in his thoughts that he neglected to pay attention to his surroundings.

"Sam-" he begins, nearly clutching his chest in shock. A heart attack is undoubtedly one way to start the day. "Sorry, man, I didn't see you there."

Sam waves off Chris's concerns, setting his own can on the curb. His is brand new, much more polished, and evidence of their recent move. Chris and Hazel have had their's for half a lifetime, and it shows.

Sam stuffs his hands in his pockets as he turns to face Chris. "Don't worry about it. Something on your mind?"

Chris swallows thickly. Though he realistically knows the man can't read his mind, he wouldn't be surprised if he did have superpowers for some other reason. It is said that humans possess a sixth sense. Could it be possible that he knows Chris is having an affair with his wife? It's a silly, superstitious thought, but Chris has a naturally guilty conscience for good reason, so he supposes that it's somewhat inevitable.

"You can probably already guess what's on my mind..." He chuckles, letting his thoughts trail off. It's a litmus test of sorts, and it makes Chris feel dirty, but he's curious what Sam assumes is on Chris's mind. It might reveal something about his character, or what he perceives Chris's character to be.

Sam nods, readily accepting this response. "Same here." He sighs deeply, as if sharing Chris's contemplative mood. "Always something at work, am I right?"

Chris breathes out a quiet sigh of relief upon hearing Sam's answer. It's normal, thank god. Chris can work with normal conversational topics. He's lived in the suburbs for long enough to know how to make idle chit chat about workplace antics.

"It never seems to end." Chris agrees easily. "I feel like I never clock out."

"Tell me about it. When I'm not in the office, I'm in our home office tapping away." Sam drags a hand down his face, looking much more ragged and older than he actually is for a moment. In just a brief second, Chris sees him as the worn-down man he is. Having the life beaten out of him by bureaucracy and office politics, it's a plight many can empathize with.

Sam shrugs, giving Chris a tight smile as he regains his composure. "It's all worth it, though, seeing as I can give Avery the option to work."

This surprises Chris. He so rarely gets to peek behind the curtain and view their lives so plainly, seeing it as a bit unreasonable of an ask when he's with Avery. But he can privately admit to being curious. He doesn't know who wouldn't be in his position.

"So you're not a two-income household...?" Chris hedges, wondering how far he can push the envelope before his questions become very obviously overstepping. He's toeing the line between realistic neighborly conversation and something else entirely. He's not even sure why he should be bothered to ask, but something in his gut warns him of engaging with these people blindly. Information is ammunition in a fight without real weapons, and he's constantly at war with his conscience. If he can get the upper hand in his morality battle, he can feel a little less guilty about having sex with Avery. Hell, if Sam knew and were okay with it, that would resolve most of Chris's hang-ups about the situation.

"We can be. She's free to do whatever she wants, but I won't force her to work." His voice conveys an air of finality, and Chris decides not to press the issue any further.

"Hey Chris," Sam says, seemingly coming back to his senses, as if he had been forgetting something the entire time they were speaking. Chris eyes him warily, but otherwise tries to remain cordial.

"Yeah?"

"I was wondering, well, Avery put me up to it, but I don't see why not," He mutters the last part out, mostly to himself, as if reasoning something out in real time. Chris cocks his head to the side. "We were wondering if you and Hazel would like to join us on an outing. Avery wants to call it a double date, but I think it sounds a little juvenile."

Chris snickers, agreeing with Sam's reasoning, but he'd never voice that thought around Avery or Hazel. His wife tends to refer to things similarly.

"Yeah, a little," Chris admits, and Sam smiles at that. "But I think we'd both be down, did you all have something in mind?" Chris notes how Sam switches from referring to Avery as the mastermind to using plural pronouns. It's interesting, though he's not sure how to read into the switch.

"She suggested bowling. Do either of you bowl?"

Chris grins, "Only when we're on double dates."

Sam sighs, shaking his head but still smiling. "It's a date then, I'll text you the details later today."

--

It's not the first time they've been on a double date; seeing as they've been married for so long, it tends to happen rather often. Marriage can be a complicated thing when friends are thrown into the mix. It's not fair to exclude your wife, nor a friend, but both deserve equal alone time. It tends to get messy.

Luckily, Sam and Avery are an easy enough couple to get along with. Once again, Chris feels a pang of pain in his chest as he thinks about a missed opportunity. Had they all met under different circumstances, he'd have liked to have been friends. It would be pleasant to be able to go on double dates without a quiet air of sadness or inexplicable guilt.

But Chris will take what he can get. And what he gets is still fun. They've all graduated from stilted dinners at each other's houses. Being out in public amongst various strangers somehow turns the conversations more lighthearted. It's also an excellent excuse to run away if need be. Chris can grab some more food or scurry off to the restroom for a longer period of time to get away than if they were at home. There's plausible deniability in getting lost on your way to the bowling alley restroom, less so if you're claiming the same thing within your own home.

Being able to take such breaks allows him to pace himself during the outing. Avery, to her credit, plays it cool; seemingly not needing to pace herself, or even get cues from Chris. Apparently, that under-the-table footsie stuff was a one-time thing, as she doesn't try anything nearly as daring when they're amongst the general public and within earshot of various witnesses.

Their hands brush on occasion when reaching for the same ball, and their shoulders touch as one gets up to bowl and the other returns to their seat, sending small electrical zaps through Chris's nervous system and causing his heart to beat fast, but other than that, nothing happens. As the night continues, Chris begins to relax. It's nice to know that, as crazy as Avery might be in bed, she's relatively normal outside of it and can keep it together when obvious danger is nearby.

Danger comes in all forms, though, and Chris has been blind to that fact for so long. He's been so preoccupied with all his woes with Hazel and Avery that he's forgotten that life goes on without all the interpersonal drama. Whenever you think the coast is clear, life will throw a brick at your head just to make sure you're paying attention. To let you know who's in charge and where your priorities should lie.

Chris was so stressed the entire time, assuming that his cover might be blown or that Sam might catch on to their shared glances, that when everyone's phone begins blaring simultaneously, his blood runs cold and he freezes, completely caught off guard. He figured that the night could end poorly with one wrong move on his or Avery's part, but he never, in a million years, could have anticipated a real-life disaster.

The lights flicker ominously as the warning sirens blare from every customer's phone. Avery whips hers out as the group continues to stare around the place, dumbfounded, uncertain of what's going on. But when the lights completely cut out and Avery flips her phone screen around to showcase the warning on her phone, Chris's brain finally kicks in and brings him back to reality.

This is the real danger of life. Not being caught cheating, not your wife finding out that you know. But being reminded that you are truly flesh and blood, and anything can change within an instant.

A backup generator whirs to life as a few employees climb onto steel chairs to deliver instructions. "A tornado has been spotted a few miles west. We have been advised to seek shelter, please follow Andrew-" they point towards the back, where a man in an orange safety vest is frantically waving both arms, "towards our designated shelter space."

An abrupt murmur can be heard as people turn towards each other in shock. They all start to shuffle along, too stunned to make a panicked run towards the exit, which is lucky.

Chris glances between Hazel and Sam, who are still standing frozen, eyes wide and mouths slightly ajar, as if they're unable to process what's going on fully.

Tornadoes are rare in their area, but not unheard of, especially not when Spring's weather fluctuations are so incredibly bipolar. What is rare, however, is having one touchdown so close to them. A few miles is unheard of.

As their partners stand in a state of shock, Avery and Chris share a knowing glance. One that screams of putting their sexual tension aside for the moment, to address the very real concern around them.

"Sam!" Avery's voice pitches up in desperation. She grabs his forearm and tugs him along behind her. He blindly obeys, but his eyes look distant, as if he's not paying attention to his wife at his fingertips. "We need to go, now."

Chris jumps into action at the same time Avery does, guiding his shocked wife along right behind the other couple. "Hazel, it's going to be okay." He whispers, his voice almost drowned out amongst the growing roar of wind and rain they can hear on the roof. It was only a drizzle when they arrived, but it sounds like it's quickly turned into a monstrous downpour.

They both hurry off towards the designated shelter location. It's off down a dark hallway, barely lit by the emergency lights that flicker occasionally. It's across from the bathroom and leads down a short flight of stairs. It's barely lower than the ground floor; seemingly almost like a poor excuse for a storage location, but it'll have to do considering the circumstances.

As they descend into the tight space, the cold basement area heats up a bit with so many warm bodies packed inside. There's enough space to hunch over and stand elbow to elbow, but just barely.

As the last of the customers files in, some members of the crew join after, shutting the door behind them and locking everyone inside. If anyone is outside, they're on their own now.

A deadbolt isn't going to put up much of a fight against a tornado, but hopefully the heavy door will hold just enough. Chris isn't even sure that the thing is heading towards them; it could just be roaming nearby areas and dissipating as soon as it touches down. But until their phones give them the all clear, they'll have to stay put.

Someone turns on an emergency radio, and those closest to the employee controlling it lean in to listen to the broadcaster's baritone voice. Chris decides to leave it to them, instead turning to face his camp, who have all taken a seat against the cold concrete wall. The basement is somewhat unfinished to his eye, but it's hard to make out details in the dark.

Hazel is hunched in on herself, arms shaking as she hugs her knees. Chris rubs soothing circles into her back, at a loss for words. He's unsure what he can say to make the situation right. This is outside of his wheelhouse as a husband.

He glances at Avery, who's seated right next to him on his left side. She's in much of a similar position, patting Sam's hand gingerly, though he seems to be elsewhere. He gazes out amongst the crowd, but his face is completely blank, not registering any stimuli. He doesn't even seem to hear his wife's whispered words of comfort, chanted over and over again like a mantra.

Chris knows why Hazel is like this, given that she has always been afraid of storms and the dark. She's never particularly been in tune with nature, always refusing to go camping or even glamping. She's just adverse to these types of high-intensity situations. Even thunderstorms put her on edge, and she usually puts the TV up louder to drown out the sound. But an active tornado? Who wouldn't be shocked by such a thing?

What Chris doesn't know, however, is why Sam is in such a state, and why Avery isn't.

He locks eyes with Avery and raises a brow, quietly probing the issue further. Avery's eyes tighten, and she looks much older than she is for a moment, harrowed by grief that goes beyond what's normal. Though he supposes they're in similar situations at the moment.

She leans over and whispers into Chris's ear, so that nobody can hear her words besides them. Neither Sam nor Hazel reacts, seemingly not noticing their partners' private conversation.

"Sam was trapped in an earthquake when he was younger; he doesn't do well in these types of situations."

She leans back, eyes appraising a shivering Hazel, and then nods in her direction. As if asking the same silent question in turn.

Chris leans in, mimicking Avery's actions as he mutters an answer under his breath. "She doesn't like nature."

Avery sighs, but smiles wryly nevertheless. The closest thing Chris figures he'll get to a laugh under the circumstances. "Who would like this type of nature?" She deflates, leaning back against the wall, as if it's the only thing that can keep her from tiring and falling asleep entirely.

Chris hadn't noticed it either, but he's suddenly exhausted as well. It's only been a few minutes since the entire ordeal began, and he's already prepared to pass out. He can't wait to go home and flop onto his bed and forget about the whole thing. It's been a long day as is without the added life and death stress.

As the quiet chaos continues to enfold around them, Chris and Avery find the hands not actively tasked with comforting their respective partners wandering closer and closer. The emergency radio continues to drone, and people nervously fidget and chatter amongst themselves. In the dark, dingy basement, barely lit by random emergency lamps and the odd phone camera, nobody notices as the two become intertwined. Fingers slowly finding each other on the cold floor.

They continue to hold hands even as they try to reassure their partners and themselves. Whispering to the person seated next to them, and then glancing at each other, a silent question in each pair of eyes, but an answer just barely out of reach.

They find comfort in the soft grip of their hands, which gives them the courage to keep going. To refuse to fall apart like their spouses. They remain tethered to the earth via each other, and it's perhaps the greatest act of betrayal yet.