lang_noriegavos: (tired)
[personal profile] lang_noriegavos
December 25th

Lang sank down into the couch, propping her feet up on the coffee table, her head back, and her hands on her belly. She closed her eyes and let out a soft breath. Kids were in bed. Christmas was done. Now all that was left to do was clean up some of the mess. And she was in no hurry.

Feeling a presence to her right, she opened one eye. Her husband stood there with what she assumed was a glass of egg nog. “Does it have rum in it?” she asked, turning her face towards him.

“No.”

She scrunched up her nose. “Nutmeg?” she asked hopefully.

“Of course.” Sebastian patted her legs with the back of his hand so she’d move them. When she did, he handed her the glass and stepped around her. She took a sip before setting the glass on a coaster on the coffee table and settling in against him.

“We have to do this every year?” she asked, surveying the chaos in the room. The torn wrapping paper has been picked up long ago, but there were toys everywhere.

“It’s only going to get worse.”

She was silent for a moment. It had been meant as a joke but there was some truth to it. What she didn’t want was for it to seem like she truly hated the idea. “On the plus side, it’s only once a year.” But that didn’t help the awkward silence. She wondered if she was the only one feeling it.

“How come you didn’t want to know the gender?” he asked.

Clearly, she had been the only one feeling the awkwardness and he had moved on to what must have been the next logical step in the conversation. “I just wasn’t ready when the time came,” she answered, “It snuck up on me. Like everything is.”

“Because you’re too busy being scared. You’ve been living in your head for weeks.”

“I am not.”

“Yes. I’m scared, too Lang, but there’s nothing we can do about it. Stop Googling, stop reading. You’re getting the baby you wanted so badly.” He put his hand on her belly and pressed his face to her cheek. “It’ll all work out.”

She stayed quiet, studying his hand and the matte black wedding band he’d started wearing after they’d renewed their vows in October. It matched the band he’d given her the same day and complimented perfectly the engagement ring he’d given her almost two decades ago. Why had it taken so long for her to finally feel like they were a matched set?

Lang felt him pull his face away. He seemed to not notice she’d been lost in thought. “Do you want to know?”

She looked over at him, putting her thoughts aside. “Now?” she asked.

“Yeah.”

She looked back out at the room and let out a soft breath. “I don’t know,” she said finally. “I want to throw a big party. Like we’d talked about. And I was thinking we could do that in February. But…” she trailed off.

“But what?”

She didn’t answer, just looked at him, hoping he could fill in the blanks. She didn’t want to say it. But he just looked back at her, not following. She knew he couldn’t read her mind. Her brow furrowed, “I’m sick, Sebastian. I just dragged you 500 miles up the coast for no reason.”

“You didn’t drag me.”

She frowned. “That’s not the point. What’s to say I won’t wake up tomorrow fed up with my life? I need to be committed and you know that. You tried real hard to make that happen.”

“I caught myself the other day,” she continued, “looking at my schedule seeing when I could fit it in. Okay? That’s not the kind of thing you plan. You don’t do it when you maybe have time somewhere. You do it and everything else be damned and it takes as long as it takes.” She paused and screwed her eyes shut. “And I don’t want to do it. I don’t want to talk about my dad ever again. I don’t want to repeat the things he said to me. I don’t want to hear them again. He’s dead, I want him to stay dead.”

Sebastian wrapped his arms around her and pulled her against his chest. “You have to. You are carrying that weight and it is eating you alive. To borrow an analogy, it is a cancer. You have to get it out. I don’t know if you think you’re being strong by ignoring your problems and trying to beat them back with a hammer. Because you’re not. Or maybe you think you’re going to disappoint me by letting yourself fall apart. Because you won’t. This is not any different than when you let me detox here last year.”

“I’ll do it in January,” she said, sounding tiny.

“And then what?” He pressed his nose to the top of her head. “You’re putting it off. You’re afraid, I know. And you’ll be scared and miserable for a while but I promise you, nothing bad will happen. You’ll be in a safe place with people who want to help.”

“But I’m not ready to face it. I can’t do it yet.”

“You don’t have the luxury of time, Lang. What you did to your leg recently was pretty bad and some places would have interpreted that to mean you’re a danger to yourself.”

“I’m fine.”

“You just said yourself you dragged me 500 miles up the coast. For what purpose? Why did you go there, cut off from the rest of the world?”

She didn’t answer. Sebastian pulled back so he could see her face. She watched as the look in his eyes changed as the pieces fell into place.

“You went there to die, didn’t you? And you wanted me to stop you.”

Again, she didn’t answer. He pulled away even more, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees and his face in his hands. She mirrored his position and watched, afraid he was going to get up and walk away. Instead, he took her left hand in both of his, tucking her arm against his side. He tilted his head towards her, “All I can do is keep asking you to go and hope you make it through another day.”

“Tuesday. I’ll go Tuesday,” she said softly, “If you’ll come.”

“I’ll follow you anywhere.”

“And…we should call my doctor tomorrow.” She didn’t need him to respond; she knew he was thinking the same thing. She let the silence settle between them. It didn’t feel awkward like before, just heavy. “Sebastian?” she asked quietly.

“Hm?”

“Is it a girl or boy?”

He smiled and put a hand to her cheek. “Girl. And we'll have a big party in February."
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