i have a meanness inside me, real as an organ

STARTER: Open, @wisteriastarts​​

LOCATION: Wisteria Park 

The sight of the young couple in the middle of a VERY public make out session makes Gus’ stomach churn, eyes roll and nose screw in utter disapproval. There is a time and place for intimacy and in the middle of the Wisteria Park at midday certainly isn’t the time, in her strong opinion. Deep down, there may be a hint of jealousy that she’s not the one sticking her tongue down both of their throats, but it’s far-fetched. “Please tell me you find that as DISGUSTING as I do,” she’ll say in outrage to the person beside her on the bench, eyes rolling for the third time since the explicit PDA had begun.

With one leg crossed over the other, Yasmine sat perfectly still with her impeccable posture, instilled in her when she’d been in the military, as she sifted through her phone with her thumb. She tried not to pay too much attention to the couple that lingered nearby, consumed by their game of ‘tonsil hockey’, but really couldn’t do much to block it out. Instead of being repulsed by it, Yasmine thought back to her husband and the current perils of her marriage. She and Adrian, too, used to disgust others with their very public displays of absolute affection when they’d first met. From the moment they’d met, despite all their differences in their ages, ethnicities, military ranks, and personalities, they had been drawn to each other. Their love ran deep, deep enough that Yasmine refused to give up on him, no matter how far they seemed to stray from one another. Part of her wasn’t sure their marriage would survive this time around, but it had to. The baby brewing within her and their family depended on it. She quickly blinked the thought away, switching tabs on her phone after hearing the very audible disapproval resonating from someone beside her. Yas stifled a laugh, switching crossed legs while her eyes remained glued to her phone for a moment. 

“I used to think that, too, when I was younger.” The girl didn’t seem that much younger than her, but Yasmine had been raised by Turkish parents and spent time in the military, forced to grow up before she could even succumb to naïvety. The girl looked familiar, but Yasmine didn’t fixate on where she recognized her from yet. “They could tone it down a little, I’ll admit. But I get it.” She played with her wedding bands, admiring the reflection of the sun against her exorbitant engagement ring. “I hate to sound like a character straight out of a Nora Roberts novel, but you never know what it’s like to be in love until you are, but damn.” She hated how stupid she sounded and anyone who knew Yas knew she was a cynic who seldom made comments about love. It suddenly dawned on her who resided beside her, for the look in her eyes resembled that of her mother’s. It was hard to forget that look after seeing it plastered on the funeral pamphlets not long ago. Instead of making the girl uncomfortable with her discovery, Yasmine shifted the gears of their conversation, refusing to pity her. Something told her the girl wasn’t a fan of receiving pity, anyway. “We should give them some privacy. I feel like I’m witnessing a full-fledged porno, at this point. Let me treat you to the coffee cake from across the street. For a cheap, small mom-and-pop café, they’re not that bad, I suppose.” God, she missed her favorite coffee shop in Texas. There was truly no place like home.

In contrast to her unlikely friend, Piper had never longed for city life. She’d grown up in a town around the same size as Fairview, most of her childhood she’d known that she would end up in a town just like it. She’d have her idyllic life in the suburbs and she’d been just fine with that. Until recently that had all been true, there had been no big city for her to miss and she’d been perfectly happy on Wisteria Lane. And she still was…or at least she tried to be.

It was as though the two women had no similarities at all. After all, Piper had never ran to the supermarket in the hopes of avoiding her husband - but then again, unlike Yasmine she hadn’t thought there was anything wrong with her marriage. She’d been wrong, obviously. Her husband leaving her, her husband leaving her for a friend, had completely completely blindsided her. Maybe if she’d known, if she’d seen the warning signs that she’d become so sure had been visible to anybody else, she might have spent her time fighting for her family like the nurse. But was there truly any use in being stuck on the what ifs in her life. Asking what if I’d known? or what if I’d done it all differently? wouldn’t change a thing. She had to remind herself every now and then. Still.

She took the tissue from Yasmine gratefully, shooting her a small smile. This was not the first time her neighbour had come to her rescue, and she’d be embarrassed if her clumsiness wasn’t a flaw she’d been cursed with her entire life. At least she basically had a nurse on standpoint at this point, she didn’t need to run to the ER every two minutes to check that she hadn’t broken a bone tripping over the sidewalk or that her burn wasn’t too bad from her attempts at cooking. “I really wish I could tell you that’s unrealistic, but I once tripped in the toiletries aisle and pulled down the tower of toilet paper so… they know me pretty well here.” The same way that the ER staff knew her really well. And the cafe where she’d spilt coffee down herself. And garage that fixed her car after she’d backed into her garage door before she’d realised she was in reverse. “Hopefully enjoying the last moments of her life with me before I disown her for letting me go out in public like this,” She joked, wiping the smudge in the hopes that she could at least look presentable. Especially when Yasmine always looked…well more put together than Piper had ever even felt.

Shifting her weight between feet, Yasmine slipped her grocery tote bags up her arms, eyes attentive upon Piper as she took the tissue and used it. It didn’t surprise her that her name held a certain merit in their humble town. Just as Yasmine was notorious for her dark humor or cold demeanor, Piper was known for her two left-feet and optimism. She couldn’t have differed from Yas more, as each woman stood on exact opposite ends of the spectrum, yet managed to procure a friendship. Once neighbors caught wind of her profession, it didn’t take long before concerned mothers would show up with their children’s sprained ankles or peculiar rashes, hoping Yas would save them a trip to the doctor’s. Piper eventually followed suit. No matter how much she insisted she wasn’t a doctor, Piper felt comfortable enough to allow Yasmine to stitch her back together. It didn’t take long before their friendship blossomed, but Yas still kept a comfortable distance from her, refusing to allow anyone on their lane to pry into her private affairs or the perils of her marriage. 

“You know, somehow I don’t doubt that in the least,” she laughed as she pushed her hair away from her face, revealing big, bold hues. She quickly looked away, afraid her gaze alone would give away the stress and sadness she’d been enduring as of late. She was hardly a fan of expressing her emotions, even to those she trusted. She knew the boxes of pregnancy tests were hanging out of her bag and that even someone as… easily distracted as Piper would clock them instantaneously. It came down to two choices -- give herself away or be awkwardly called out. Straightening her posture, she closed the spaces between them, suddenly becoming aware of the differences in their height. Piper was a lot taller than her, while Yasmine’s height mostly came from the over-abundance of her hair. She parted her lips to speak, voice low and subtle, but soft. “I’m actually glad I ran into you. I’ve got… something I have to take care of. I’ve been putting it off because I don’t want to do it alone, but I ran into you. It’s kismet, really.” Her eyes flashed down to her bag and back to Piper’s to bring attention to the pregnancy tests she purchased.

“No one knows, yet. Not even me. I have a… feeling, though. You know what I mean. And I can’t take them at home. I’d rather not. Even if we find a café with a restroom. I just need someone there with me, you know?”

“Right? Maybe if it wasn’t in front of my impressionable child, I wouldn’t have batted an eyelash. Some people really just don’t think before they talk do they?” She knew asking it was a rhetorical question, but maybe she just needed to voice her thoughts aloud and feel heard. “Sometimes dealing with the mothers is worse than dealing with the kids around here. One wrong move and suddenly you’re banned from the school bake sale or uninvited to the weekly book club.” Emily didn’t really know Yasmine or if she had kids herself, but something told her she didn’t know how some of the mothers acted around the lane. “And people have the nerve to call me some robotic stepford wife and yet they don’t care when a group of the other mothers let their kids do whatever they want and run everything at the schools. Thankfully, my children aren’t in elementary school or junior high, that’s when they get the most competitive. Who’s kid got the part in the play or who’s mom packed the best lunch. I’m glad that phase is behind us, but then they grow into teenagers. And I hate to speak ill will towards anyone’s kids, but some of them grow into not so nice ones.”

Yasmine couldn’t argue with that logic. Fortunately, she hadn’t had the pleasure of dealing with other mothers since Josiah had been four at his passing. Prior to then, she and Adrian had been so over-protective of him that they kept him in their small bubble, rarely letting him beyond their sight and only allowed him amid the presence of family or those they had trusted with their own lives. The joke was on them because no matter how close they’d kept him… they’d still lost their little boy. She wished the worst of her problems was dealing with judgmental mothers. Not that she didn’t still deal with their stares or hushed whispers anytime she happened around their neighborhood or the town, for there was nothing a suburban housewife could spot easier than an outsider. “I’d rather be called a robotic stepford wife than be accused of raising heathens.” She thought back to Josiah, merely four, yet beyond his years. Intelligent, capable of comprehending three languages; English, Russian, and Turkish, and he’d been incredibly kind. She doubted he would’ve been among the relentless, insolent teenagers that ran rampant around town during school hours instead of tending to their studies. Or maybe he would’ve been one of them, but Yasmine would never know. She quickly buried the memory of him before the infliction could reach her facial expressions. “So you won’t get any judgment from me. Your daughter is absolutely stunning. I think any mother that judges you is probably more pissed they don’t have the cheekbones that you clearly passed onto your little girl.” It was probably the most sincere she’d ever said and would ever say to another woman. Most women didn’t take too easily to Yasmine, but the woman before her didn’t seem intimidated by her cold demeanor. 

“I’m never going to leave you. Not ever.” He whispered, squeezing her hand in his comfortingly. For all their problems, she was the only one thing Adrian was sure of. The only constant in his life. There was no way he’d ever walk out on her, no matter how far he strayed. Shutting off the ignition he turned to look at her one final time, before leaning in close for a kiss, lips lingering softly against hers. “Now lets go hear what the doctor has to say, huh?” He murmured.

It wasn’t long before he was helping her out the truck, wrapping an arm about her waist as they strode out the parking garage towards the hospital’s main entrance, greeting staff he recognized as they walked by. If there was one place he frequented besides the gym or bar, it was her place of work. Though his appearances were few and far between these days, no longer surprising her with flowers or lunch simply because he missed her, the halls remained all too familiar and he found himself unconsciously beginning to walk in the wrong direction, towards the floor his wife usually worked. “What’s the name of the doctor you’re seeing again?” He asked, pulling up her calendar on his phone. It was handy Yas was so on top of it when it came to scheduling things, otherwise he would’ve never known she’d had this appointment in the first place. “I wanna look him up. See what his patients are saying about him. Make sure he knows what he’s doing.” He only wanted the best for his wife, after all.

Despite the words escaping his lips, their infliction didn’t match that of his eyes. Hard as Yasmine tried to fixate on his words, self-doubt set in and made itself at home in her mind as Adrian broke his pout away from hers. She had been married to him long enough to distinguish when he was being sincere and when he was just trying to shut her up. How was he utterly unfazed by the news of her condition just the other day and now he had rounded up baby names? Half of her wanted to believe she was just a hormonal, neurotic maniac with all the paranoia that consumed her, but the other half of her knew that her gut never failed her. But now that they overlapped one another, she wasn’t sure whether to take him at his word and move on or continue to sleep with an eye open. For now, she nodded to conclude the conversation altogether and took his hand as he offered Yasmine help off his truck toward her place of work. Without words, she pulled him subtly in the other direction, leading them down winding halls and a few elevator levels before ending up on the appropriate floor. “You want to look them up? I work here. You don’t think I did my own research regardless, anyway? Besides, it’s a she. As if I don’t know my own spouse. You wouldn’t be okay with a male OBGYN looking at me, let alone looking in me.” 

After signing in, she took a seat furthest from everyone else alongside him, clipboard on her lap with an array of questions she wasn’t in the mood to answer. The women that surrounded them were either almost nearly to term or somewhere in between, each carrying some sort of bump to demonstrate their pregnancies. Yasmine was still barely far along to show beyond her blouse. She scribbled her signature on what felt like a hundred pages, hand cramping as she handed the clipboard to Adrian in defeat. If anyone knew her, it was him. She dug into her bag for anything edible, craving something she couldn’t particularly put her hands on in the OB’s office. “I could strangle you. You really had the audacity to shove healthy snacks into my bag knowing you knocked me up,” she hissed, barely audible to the other women or couples that littered the waiting room. “Knowing I don’t even crave these when I’m not pregnant.” As if on cue, they were interrupted by the medical assistant that announced her name. After her vitals were taken, they were placed in a room to wait for the doctor. “What are you, you know, hoping for? A girl, a boy… or maybe no baby at all?”

The Murrays were a problem to Charles for so many reason. The first, they could seemingly see through all of his feigned politeness. As if they knew it was for show. They didn’t fall for the same tricks the others did, rejected any help he had offered and closed him off from any opportunities he had to get close. It only further convinced him that they had something to hide - something interesting. Nobody tried so hard to protect themselves if it wasn’t to keep a secret, and certainly nobody did that for anything boring. In all their efforts to ditch his persistent curiosity, they had only made the intrigue greater. This of course in turn only made his advances towards the couple stronger. It was a cycle, one that they might forever be stuck in if Charles didn’t get his way. 

It seemed that he was making progress, all too happy to put in the extra work of carrying the grocery bags Yasmine handed to him for the promise of being let in - to her home, to her life. The things he did for a little gossip. He walked to the kitchen, his eyes not so subtly scanning the surrounding area. He’d never been privy to the Murray’s home, and anybody he asked had been no help. Clearly they kept mostly to themselves. It felt like a moment of triumph as he placed the bags on the counter, his hands reaching in to unload them. If it could buy him a couple of extra minutes, he would unload their stupid groceries. Except that it didn’t seem as though he needed the excuse, Yasmine was offering him to stay.

“Oh I couldn’t,” He said despite closing the door as instructed and moving to take a seat. Clearly he could, and he was going to, he was just hoping to appear humble for a second. “It’s really not necessary.” And yet he reached for the offered glass. His eyes widened slightly at the news, clearly he hadn’t been expecting that - both her pregnancy and her willingness to tell him. “Should you be drinking that?” He asked without thinking, his brow furrowing as he thought of everything he knew of pregnancy - which granted wasn’t a lot. Coffee and wine were definitely on the no list, that alone made him question why any woman would subject herself to nine months of pregnancy. He listened, his ears catching the slip and consequentially raising an eyebrow, but he remained silent for some time. Until she was ready. “I’m sure you have no need to worry, your husband doesn’t seem like the type to step out on you,” A lie, he knew next to nothing about Adrian Murray, but he was determined to keep her opening up, “And as for Rose, well I mostly knew her through my sister-in-law, but I doubt there was anything shady going on.” Except that Rose, who had always seemed perfectly happy to anybody you asked on the lane, had killed herself. So really, how well had any of them known her? 

Finally, finally… it was like a weight had been lifted as she uttered the words that had hung around her neck like an albatross. Finally someone else knew that wasn’t her OBGYN or her husband. Adrian hadn’t been fazed, despite their initial determination to finally get her off any contraceptives and really try to conceive after Josiah’s passing. Once they’d determined enough time had passed, neither of them figured they’d have the luck to expand their family, anyway. She’d struggled tremendously the first-time around, enduring miscarriage after miscarriage, then false positives and even hormonal therapy before they’d been blessed with the miracle of their son. As luck would have it, it was only when they’d given up and stopped trying that she’d become pregnant with Josiah. Every day for the next four years of his short-lived life would be the happiest of the Murray’s lives before...now. It’d been two years since his passing and time seemingly stood completely still. Adrian and Yasmine didn’t live, only existed.

She poured both glasses modestly, leaving the bottle near Charles before setting his glass before him. His question startled her as he piqued interest in her well-being, showing a little more empathy towards her condition than her own damn husband did at hearing the news. She laughed dryly, taking the first sip between them from her wine glass. “A glass or two, actually, is unharmful. Trust me.” She was a registered nurse for a living, and a retired combat medic. Once her neighbors learned another ‘medical professional’ had moved onto the lane, people often approached her with their weird rashes or random aches and asked for a diagnosis. She often referred them to the only other doctor on the lane she knew, Dr. Rhodes, if she was unable to treat her neighbors. “I asked a few of the doctors I work with just to be sure,” she reaffirmed, reminding him of her expertise. “But thank you for the concern.” The silence that followed suit was filled with what was left unsaid. At least you are concerned. My husband doesn’t give a shit.

“I appreciate that, Charles. I’m glad the lane seems to think he’s so… noble. And loyal. And I’m just the nagging, cold-hearted, bitch-of-a-wife who doesn’t deserve him.” That’s what surely everyone around them thought. Adrian was often seen training anyone capable of keeping up with his rigorous work-out routines. He was also handy with any tool in his hand and helped suburban widows or housewives with busy husbands fix just about anything because Adrian Murray was miraculously good at anything and everything, especially at putting up a front. They both had to be good at feigning happiness after losing their son, but when it came to hiding his emotions, even Adrian seemed to one-up Yasmine. Still, no one saw who he’d become behind closed doors lately. In sickness and in health, for better or for worse, she’d vowed, but what category did Adrian’s infidelity fall under? Or his aversion to her pregnancy? Or how he’d started becoming aggressive and physical with her? She swallowed the mass in her throat, hearing her phone go off with the ringtone exclusive to her husband, but she didn’t move to answer it. Instead, she polished off what was left in her glass and silently offered him a refill.

Yas wanted desperately to fill in the missing pieces in the story that Charles didn’t know, such as their son’s death and how she even met Adrian to begin with, so that maybe he’d understand her a little better. But their late son didn’t deserve to be the lane’s latest topic of gossip, for nothing on Wisteria stayed secret for long. How the Murray’s had managed to keep most of their lives private at all over the last year and a half was beyond her. “Maybe it wasn’t Rose, but it’s someone. There is someone else. He doesn’t even bother hiding it as well as he used to. At least he used to shower before getting into bed with me on his late nights in. Now he lets that whore’s perfume join us in bed.” She nervously played with her wedding rings, eyes filled to the brims with tears she tried to blink away. No one on the lane had ever seen her cry and Charles wasn’t about to be the first. “Look, you must be so busy. I’m sorry I pulled you from...just, I’m sorry. I probably look like any other pathetic housewife in this area. We’re all cheated on. It’s like a rite of passage for us married women in order to live in the suburbs -- lose our husbands to homewrecking skanks. Hah.” She coldly poured herself a third glass before realizing she’d nearly finished the bottle on her own. “Shall I open another?”

STARTER: open  @wisteriastarts​ LOCATION: outside the Coffee Cup

“I saw a bunch of teenagers outside the market in t-shirts, in the middle of winter.” Walking downtown, Emily let out an exasperated sigh as her hands tightened around the cup of coffee she was drinking. “Now I don’t know what a MILF is and if I should be offended, but I don’t think “You can keep me warm at night” is something a lady wants to hear while grocery shopping with her daughter. I also have half a mind to barge into End Zone and demand that the waitresses at least try and cover up, it’s cold outside.” 

Although it was still entirely too early in her pregnancy, Yasmine found herself entering the ‘nesting’ stage much earlier than she had with her late son. She was hardly showing, bearing at least a small bump only enough to be seen by her husband when she had on tight clothing or nothing at all, and could hardly envision a future with the addition to their family. Still, the urge to ‘spring clean’ in the late winter and continuously renovate their home still consumed her as she found herself hitting every boutique downtown, collecting accents for décor, throw pillows, paint swatches, abstract art and edgy paintings. She didn’t even know the baby’s gender, yet, but settled for neutral colors to be safe. With an array of bags in each hand, she walked impatiently behind a woman and her daughter, stifling a laugh at her comments before stepping in with her ‘expertise’ in being cat-called by hormonal teens. “Join the club. It isn’t necessarily the worst thing to be called, but yeah, maybe it wasn’t so appropriate in front of your daughter.” She was beautiful; they both were, the mother and daughter duo alike. “It’s worse where I’m from. At least this town is smaller and everyone knows everyone. You can always threaten to tell their mothers. They don’t know we don’t know them, but it worked for me. Little pervs.”