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lets-roar-babe · 3 months ago

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KITCHEN LIGHTS | TOMMY MILLER

Synopsis: In which a kitchen light leads your estranged husband back to you.

a/n: Inspired by the series "Family Matters" found here enjoy!

gif credit found here

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Nothing truly came from the month of October. The trees bore no fruit, nor could they hold on to the withered leaves that hung from their branches. The Redwood would seek comfort in their modesty, shielding themselves like Catholic virgins—refuting the request to lie bare and empty for the world to see. Conversely, The Oak would give themselves freely to the surfacing wind- offering their leaves in a way oddly sacrificial while internally relishing in the metamorphosis of being condensed down to bark. The soil would be turned sour, and farmers would dig up their harvest and inevitably start anew. The mulch would be unsatisfactory to the touch, but necessary to produce the autumn heap.

A seasonal sacrifice and display of unequal scales, October would remove the equilibrium of nature's course. The chill of the morning would turn lukewarm by the strike of noon, and the crow would flee before nightfall, leaving its flock behind as temperatures would shift at intervals the flock could not prophesy. An orchestra of organized chaos, October altered what was familiar and purged its victims into something anew—a clean slate for even those who were unwilling. And as you sat quiet and meek before the eyes of your stoic husband, you too sensed the season of autumn coming to reap the familiarity that was Tommy Miller.

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The kitchen light blew its fuse at 1:43 PM. Initially reaching out to Joel, a sting of annoyance surfaced as you reached yet another automated tone. You paused as you heard the all too familiar beep, lingering on the phone for a second too long as you shook away your thoughts before hanging up. He was working, and in a way, he would be expecting a baby soon. You had always known Joel to live and die by the grindstone, the drill, the mechanics. He was busy, and that was simply that. You knew you had done nothing to warrant his avoidance and settled for telling him about the light when he came to visit you after hours. You huffed out a gust of air as you looked up at the sparking light, internally going over your shared evening routine to give yourself a sense of comfort.

The gravel would sound from beyond the pines as the Ford would roll to a creak and stop. You would then open the door with a meek smile and muttered “hello” as he crossed the threshold with his arm tucked beneath your waist. You would sit at the dining table and talk about your days, emitting small talk over Folger’s coffee as you caught the fleeting glances directed towards your swollen belly. You would smile to yourself, wondering if he were even aware of the attentiveness he put into the appearance of your belly, recalling all the times his hands would migrate from your waist to your abdomen to make sure the baby was, in fact, growing and healthy. He would then venture off to the spare room you had both agreed to be the nursery as he would once again ask what you wanted, and you would return with yet another indecisive answer. Then, after all formalities were completed and darkness rolled over the hills, you would occupy the porch swing that sat a tad too low for comfort, in silence.

Staring out into the forest, you would both search for answers you knew neither of you had… nor deserved. The swing would creak back and forth, serving as adequate white noise as your legs moved in sync to continue the ritual.

Back…. Forth… back… forth…

Silence.

Back… Forth… back… forth

Silence.

Back… Forth…

“So… have you… um- seen him at all?”

Coward, you couldn’t even say his name.

Joel would then turn to you with soft eyes, tracing circles on your lower back to cease the debilitating nerves of not only you but himself. An answer would not come for some time, and you would look over to find him lost within his own world. Analyzing the stars, his subconscious would drift past the Lakeview before you, over yonder, and into the valleys. Then, as if snapped out of a trance, he would turn to you with furrowed brows, embarrassed how he had managed to lose himself in front of you. Silence would continue for quite some time, and then, painstakingly– words would come.

“Nah, he took a short-term contracting job about 30 miles North. I don’t even see ‘em on the job, although I know the contract ends pretty soon… I call him every day, just no-”

“Answer? Yeah, me too.”

The Cicadas would add to your symphony, blending into the creaks of the hinges as the orchestra would continue on. The band would string together a perfect harmony, almost louder than the silence that would have fallen over you again. You would sit with yourself, your thoughts ricocheting against every orifice of your mind, and after a while, when it all became too much, you would find yourself in a flurry of tears- hot and disheveled. Joel’s arms would then engulf you, easing you into his broad chest as you would waft the scent of him- Cedarwood and Virginia tobacco. You would inhale, loving the fumes of him as your hands would then cling to his arms, holding onto them as if they were the only thing keeping you on an axis. And as you lay wallowing in your tears, you would feel comfort. He was your comfort.

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You shook your head, repelling the memories; that was then, and this was now. A soft buzz echoed above you, and as you looked up at the sparking light, your lips began to curl thin as the faint smell of sulfur grazed your nostrils.

Shit.

You picked up your phone and hovered over his name, debating whether the attempt would even be successful. This was not a petty attempt to garner sympathy or apologize, nor was it your 5th attempt to explain your side between choked sobs as you had done in the past when your calls went straight to voicemail. This was possibly an electrical fucking fire, and Tommy, as scorned as he was, would have to understand that. He was not that type of man, right? Gripping your bottom lip between your teeth, you made your way to the living room as you began to text him a brief synopsis of the events.

The kitchen light blew this morning. It’s sparking right now (no big deal) but i'm almost positive I smell sulfur, and that only ever happened with the generator, right?

Read at 1:56 PM

You stared at your screen for a long while, rereading the text repeatedly as you awaited a response. Tommy had withered away from your life over the past 3 months, only returning when you were at work to fetch some necessities for the job, such as important documents or work boots. He never stayed long, fearing that you would return home early from work or, better yet, with Joel. You felt yourself go stir crazy as you smelled his presence within rooms after a long day of work, chasing what you felt was just a phantom of him—silently damning yourself that you had missed the opportunity to cross paths with him. To beg in person the same soliloquies you had virtually. Tapping your foot as tears welled in your eyes, you shot an additional text.

Please Tommy, I don't know what to do.

Read at 2:03 PM

Another period of silence graced over you as the grandfather clock ticked to match the noise of the settling house. Tommy loved you, and he wouldn’t ignore a home maintenance request that he knew you had no means of resolving, right? He was your husband… he loved you.. and only you. For fucks sake, his name was still on the deed.

Prepared to send your last attempt at rescue, a soft ping echoed throughout the air as your ears perked, mirroring a dog at attention.

How had the man who lived to worship you, learn to acknowledge you only in times of distress?

Your eyes skimmed the screen as you analyzed his response– short, stern, and tinged with subtle annoyance.

The smoke detector still works. Wait on the porch; I’ll fix it.

You messaged a quick thank you, which you had predicted would be ignored, and settled yourself onto the porch swing where you’d grown to seek solace in Joel. You swung your legs back and forth as you kept your eyes on the trail, this time awaiting a faded Chevy versus a vintage Ford. Your legs would continue to swing, this time alone rather than accompanied by your other lover, and your stomach would twist in knots as you worried about what was to come.

But for now, you were alone.

Back… forth…. back…. forth…

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Tommy had moved out the day after he caught you entangled with Joel. After being captured bare and confessing sweet nothings that only lovers could utter– Tommy simply left. You remember calling his name as you scrambled for the undergarments that were torn and tattered upon the floor by Joel’s aggression. Screeching at his back, he continued to turn away from you, walking towards the threshold of your shared cabin as he refused to spare you a second glance. You remembered Joel sinking his fingers into your bicep, attempting to console you as he instructed you to leave him be in fear that things would become hostile. You had snatched away from him harder than expected, the look on his face sending a pang of guilt directly to the chest.

You were panicking at this point, tears streaming down your face as you reached for even Joel’s flannel in an attempt to cloak yourself from the shame that crept its way into your subconscious. Joel had reached for you once again, and this time, instead of resisting, you threw yourself into him, wailing into his chest as your knees began to waver. Joel held you steady and safe, another thing you loved about him– as he met you halfway while you collapsed into hysteria. Joel would then rub a hand over his thick scruff, wondering how he was going to face his brother after the series of events. Unbeknownst to him, the image of his brother– slouched over and deflated, would be the last that he’d see of him for several months. Only receiving his back portfolio to serve as the memory of the day he betrayed him.

You had spent that night alone in the cabin, unable to keep Joel there since it was a constant reminder of how horrid things had indeed become. You were torn between two men and selfishly expected both to become subservient. Who even were you at this point? You had cried yourself to sleep that night, clinging to Tommy’s side of the bed as you inhaled the scent. As the night would go on, you would lay awake and wonder if he would come home. Even opting for the nuclear blowout that you knew followed emotional infidelity– but to your dismay, Tommy’s presence would never come. Work would come and go, and as you returned home, you would notice the absence of Miller Lite within the fridge. Furrowing your brows, you would walk toward the living room in search of a cigarette ashtray only to find it– gone. Frantically, you would make your way to your shared bedroom, opening drawers in a fury as alarm bells rang within your mind. Then, as you folded the accordion doors to your closet, your world would go black– your husband had left you.

You recalled hiking towards your phone, scrambling over the keypad as you typed his name.

Tommy- fuck wait, Babe.

The automated tone sounded again and again, leaving you at a dead end as tears began to well into your eyes and spill. 45 calls– 45 times your husband had ignored you. He loved you, he wouldn't– he couldn’t. Vows were eternal, applicable even through thick and thin. This was not death; therefore, you would not be apart.

Tommy please, I am your wife.

Read at 5:04 PM

The only indicator that Tommy was even alive were the heaps of groceries left on your doorstep every Thursday afternoon. Still cool to touch, you would appreciate the attentiveness he took into timing his delivery– ensuring that the milk did not spoil nor the eggs cook under the Texan sun. You would sigh as you picked them up, carrying them into a now vacant home that you once shared with the man you loved. Appreciatively, the bills were still set onto autopay as Tommy cleared the transactions every month.

Yes, the mere thought of you and Joel betraying his trust turned him sour– damn near bitter to the taste. But he could not allow himself to not provide for you, especially being privy to your pregnancy. He loathed the sight of you, but not his baby. With every delivery of goods, you would notice boxes of Huggies placed upon the kitchen counter and accompanied by a surplus of wipes. The boxes were heavy, and he did not want you to carry them in such condition. Within three months, almost all toiletries needed for the baby’s milestones were pilled into the spare room’s closet. Filled to a brim and practically overflowing past the accordion doors. Although things were pungent, he still held an attachment to the baby. A baby that you had proclaimed three months ago was, in fact, not his, but Joel’s. Guilt crept its way into the bottom of your stomach and settled as you recalled your words; it had made quite a lovely home there over the months.

He provided but was yet absent. He spared you no words nor presence, and you slowly shrank into a morsel of yourself as you were left to live with the weight of your decisions… and it felt awful. Joel had served as an adequate substitute, but as the days drew into weeks and transitioned into months, you sensed the wariness that radiated from him as well. You debated on whether the triangulation had gone too far– if temporary pleasure was worth the lifetime of a broken covenant. He loved you, you would repeat to yourself. He only loved you.

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Tommy’s car would roll over the hills about twenty-five minutes after your text; ejecting himself from the driver’s seat, you would stiffen as he made his way towards you, then past you, as he proceeded into the home. A feeling of insecurity would follow, and you would tuck your knees to your chin as you held yourself in an upward fetal position. The frogs would croak at the quarry, and you would listen to their symphony as you attempted to block out the fuzzy static that engrossed your ears. You would hear him begin to tinker with the kitchen bulb, metal clanging on metal as tools collided and tore apart. He would cough occasionally, the closest thing to words that would escape his lips, and you would remain outside as he did his work.

Joel’s words would then surface within your mind.

“Just leave him be darlin’, we have no idea how he feels right now, and dammit it’s too fresh to find out.”

Forty-five minutes would come to pass, and you would play your role as the coward while your husband continued to work at the nuts and bolts. The frogs sang louder now, and you would silently reminisce in the comfort of Joel and the nights spent occupied upon the porch swing. Inside, Tommy would work in silence, sweat pooling at his temple as he tried his hardest not to think about you. His pride refused to allow him to remain married to you, and he silently counted the days spent apart as viable means of separation before the court.

He would not confront you while you were carrying a child, too concerned with the well-being of the baby to ever jeopardize its health. He also refused to serve you postpartum; he still held a certain amount of decorum and love for you (despite his many attempts to drink them away), and he felt as if he would be less of a man to hit you at your lowest. As far as Joel went, he could go without seeing him for a lifetime. Accepting a full-time contracting job 30 miles south of Austin, Joel would learn soon enough that any petty attempts to reach him at the job would be unsuccessful. He would be a phantom there just as he was within the house he now stood in.

The bulb would cease to flicker, and the sparks would disperse shortly after Tommy had tightened the last cord. He gathered his supplies quickly, turning towards the door as he made his way back to the porch, past you, and towards the driver’s side of his Chevy pickup. Against his better judgement, he would turn to look at you, breath hitching at the sight. You looked pitiful and disheveled, eyeing him with such longing as your lips parted in attempts to say something meaningful. Tommy would stand closer to the car, fingers grazing the handle as he let out a puff of air. In that moment, he had seen how the months had affected you– and felt somewhat guilty for leaving you all alone in an empty cabin to self-soothe your marital wounds.

But then the grief hit. The moans he heard as he crossed the threshold replayed within his mind. The forbidden words spoken between you and Joel as you denounced him from his role as a father edged their way into the center point of his cerebellum. Slowly– toxicly, the resentment seeped in. Face contorting, you could almost picture what your husband was thinking as you held yourself more tightly into your chest. He would remain lost within his thoughts as he stared at you, this time in anger more than inspection. Slowly, he became lost in his own world, and you thought back to the nights when Joel had done the same– shaking your head in disbelief at how similar the two could be. Then, for the first time in three months, you would hear your husband’s voice.

“It’s fixed. Let me know if anything else happens.”

And with that, he settled into his car– seat belt clipped, and mirror adjusted. You closed your eyes to stop yet another set of tears from falling for the fifth time today. You knew that there was no coming back from that. The quick dismissal and complete avoidance served as verification of what you had feared the most. Tommy had checked out, and it was only a matter of time before the title of his wife would be of past tense. You knew it, and so did he.

You watched as he reversed across the gravel– lip quivering and heart aching. His taillights disappeared within the trees shortly after as you silently wondered where they would end. Silently praying that they were not headed towards the home of another. The frogs had stopped now, and the cicadas had taken over the wind.

He was gone, and you were left here.

Time would continue to pass as you slowly lifted yourself from the porch swing, preparing to meet with Joel within the next hour. It was almost time for your nightly routine, and you desperately needed the aura of his comfort. With that, you carried yourself into the kitchen, chasing the scent of a man you knew would be stripped bare from this place by winter. October was made for altering things into anew, and you had become a victim of its oldest trick.

#joel miller #tommy miller #the last of us hbo #tlou hbo #tlou #joel and ellie #sarah miller #fanfic #angst

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