your heart is where my head should be
the dissonance is killing me
it breaks my heart
oh honey, it's just a wave
it's just a wave and i know that when it comes
i just hold on, i just hold on
Former Handmaid and 8 Week Old Infant Among Latest Refugees as Europe Imposes New Sanctions on Gilead
As he reads the words on the page in front of him, a printout of a news article from the BBC, his world starts to swim at the edges. He doesn't hear what the Commander at the head of the room is saying as this meeting he'd been called into kicks off, something about border and damage control, his mind is racing as he scans the article on the table.
Emily. Former Handmaid. Baby Nichole. Eight weeks old. Her mother still in Gilead. They're in Montreal. Safe. Safe, safe, safe. She's safe.
The words start playing in his head on a loop, over and over again, faster and faster until they're nothing more than white noise, temporarily dulling the roar of his own thoughts. He swallows hard as he flips the page over to continue reading and he's greeted with a grainy black and white photo of Emily with Nichole. He clenches his jaw and closes his eyes as he chastises himself for his slip up. Holly, he repeats in his head.
Her name is Holly.
He'd stopped smoking the day the Waterfords had shown up at the house with Holly. It wasn't much, but it was the only thing about his situation at the time he could control, and he felt like he needed to do something. He couldn't be there the way he wanted, but he could at least try to be better for her, so he'd given up his cigarettes. He'd taken the last of his pack that day and tossed it with his dinner.
But she's safe now, he's got no role to play in it, and he'd always kept a spare pack in the center console of the car. He throws the car into park and in one swift motion he flips open the console, retrieving the pack. The first cigarette is lit and on his lips before he's even out of the garage. The nicotine goes right to his head, and he'd hoped the rush would dull the pounding in his head that had started as soon as he'd read that headline, that the burn in his throat would distract him somehow, but instead all it does is remind him of why he hasn't smoked a cigarette in two months, and why he's doing it now.
He takes another drag.
He finishes the first cigarette quickly, before he's even made it to the stairs, and as he flicks the butt away, he looks up at his window. The shades are closed and there's no light inside, even though the sun is setting and if he was inside he'd have already turned his lamp on. But June won't turn the lights on until he comes in, she can't, they can't afford to raise the suspicion. She should be in Montreal, where she could turn on a fucking light if she wanted. He stops on the bottom step and sits down on the second, pulling out another cigarette. One more.
He realizes he's stalling as he takes his second long drag on his new cigarette. The news he'd gotten today was good - great, even - and he should have been bursting at the seams to hurry back and tell June she'd done it, they'd done it, that Holly was safe and out of Gilead. That she was somewhere Fred and Serena couldn't ever get to her. He knows it's good news. He just wishes someone would tell his heart that.
Before, when they'd left, he'd made himself okay with it by telling himself that even though he wouldn't be around, Holly would still have June. He'd hated the thought of being separated from his family, not knowing if he'd ever see either of them again, but somehow he could stomach it knowing that they'd be out of this hellhole together. But then she'd shown back up at his apartment, telling him she'd sent Holly along with her friend, Emily, and that she couldn't leave Hannah. He'd tried to argue, but she'd asked him what he'd have done, if he'd have been able to leave Holly behind. Of course he couldn't.
He didn't answer, even though they both knew what his answer would have been, and the conversation had come to an abrupt halt. They woke up the next morning tangled together and they hadn't spoken about it since.
But that afternoon he'd seen Holly's little face again, in that grainy black and white picture, and something in his heart had given way, everything he'd pushed under the surface from that first night had come back to haunt him and then some. He wanted to be there in that picture, with Holly. But more than that, he wanted June to be with her. He wanted them all to be together, safe, as a family. And on top of all of that, he hadn't fully realized just how much he missed having Holly close. The disconnect between his heart and his brain was threatening to rip him in two and he didn't know if he'd split fully in half or fall deep down into the chasm that the divide was causing, as his heart was screaming at him about how much it wanted Holly close so he could see her and hold her and his mind was screaming back about how selfish that was.
As he finishes his cigarette, smoking it right down to the filter, he realizes he can't stall anymore. The sun is sinking even lower on the horizon and he knows June heard the car pull into the garage. He flicks the butt away again and stands, willing his heart and his mind to get on the same page before he has this conversation, even though he knows it's futile.
When he comes in, June is curled in his brown leather chair, her legs tucked underneath her, her attention on one of his books about military history that's cracked open in her lap. She's wearing one of his black undershirts and a pair of his boxers and both are stuck to her skin in places - her hair is wet, like she's just showered. As she hears him come in, she smiles up at him and the normalcy of the moment almost knocks him off his feet.
In another life, this could be a normal Saturday - he'd be coming in for the evening, June, fresh out of the shower, would have taken the opportunity to get in some reading while Holly slept. He'd make dinner, they'd play with the baby when she woke up, and there'd be no danger. Just them, being a family. Together.
Instead, they're in this shitty little room above the Waterford's garage, their daughter is in another country, and if anyone knew June was here, they'd both be executed. He closes and locks the door behind him.
"Hey," June greets him, closing the book on her lap. He tries to force a smile as his right thumb finds his left palm and starts rubbing anxious circles on his skin.
"I heard the car a few minutes ago," June continues, putting her feet down on the floor in front of her and moving the book rest in the chair at her side, watching Nick carefully. "Everything okay?"
He drums his thumb against his hand. He wants to lie to her, but he can't. He never has, and he doesn't plan on starting now. "Yeah, I was just smoking."
June's eyebrows cross together in confusion as she finally stands. "I thought you said you quit."
"I had a pack in the car." He swallows hard as he takes another step into the apartment. He needs to tell her about Holly. He wants to tell her. Why can't he find the words to do it? Suddenly he's back in June's old room, coming back from Canada, having to tell her about finding her husband. How had he gotten the words out then? He can't remember. He clears his throat and goes for it.
"Holly's in Canada, she made it," he says around the lump in his throat. He watches as June's face changes from one of concern to shock, like the floor's dropping out from underneath her. "Montreal," he clarifies, as he clears his throat again, looking down at his shoes briefly before looking back up at June just in time to catch her shaking her head in disbelief before the questions start.
How do you know? Who's she with? When did they make it? He manages to answer them all with no problem until she gets to her last question. Is she okay? Did it say if she was okay?
Her voice breaks on the last word, tears spilling out of her eyes as she blinks, and he feels something inside him break too.
"She's okay," he answers quickly, hoping he can power through. "There was a picture, she looked okay. I tried to get it out so you could see, but I couldn't. I'm sorry." He keeps talking in the hopes that it'll distract himself from his feelings, that maybe it'll help June feel better somehow, even though somehow it makes him feel worse. He got to see their daughter today, she didn't.
And then suddenly, before he realizes it, June is against him, her arms thrown around his neck, hugging him tight, her wet hair resting against his cheek where he can smell his shampoo in her hair. He closes his eyes and breathes her in as he hugs her back, feeling himself start to split even more. He shouldn't love her being here, but he does. He loves that he gets to hug her, that he got to tell her their daughter is safe but he shouldn't. He tries to shut his mind up as June finally pulls away from him, kissing his cheek, smiling even though tears still threaten to fall from her eyes as she looks up at him, his face stoic as he swallows hard, her face falling.
"Nick," she says his name softly and he looks at her. She smiles softly as she touches his arm. "That's good news."
He nods once, tightly. "I know."
"Hey," she runs her hand down his arm until her hand finds his. "What is it?"
He starts to shake his head, he doesn't want to burden her with his feelings, but then she squeezes his hand, a reminder that he's not alone in this. He shifts his weight from his left foot to his right foot before releasing a deep breath.
"She's just so far away," he starts with a small admission, an easy one, hoping that he can stop there and they can move on. But June doesn't take her eyes off of him and he feels compelled to keep talking. "I never thought I'd miss hearing her crying, because I couldn't do anything for her, but at least she was here." He looks up, blinking rapidly. Don't cry.
"She wasn't safe here, you know that." June tells him gently, she can tell he's on edge.
"I know." He can feel that they're repeating themselves, and he knows they'll get stuck here unless he can shove his feelings back under the surface. He has no trouble doing it around everyone else, but June's always been different, and now he's opened the floodgates. He lets go of her hand, finally walking past her, thinking maybe if he gets thirty seconds he can pull himself together. But June, not ready to give up, turns to face him. She follows behind him, continuing trying to reason with him.
"She's safe now, they can't get to her -"
"But they can get to us." He turns back around to face her, and she stops in her tracks and looks at him. "They can get to you." So much for pushing everything back down. Instead, he's brought the root of the problem right to the surface. She's still here, in danger, and he's terrified they'll never get to see Holly again. That they'll never get to be a family. He sits down on the edge of his bed and looks at the floor.
"You can't think like that," June says after a moment of silence. He doesn't move, but the floor creaks under her feet as she moves towards him. He knows he should look up at her, but instead he just starts fidgeting with his hands until finally, he feels the bed dip down next to him.
"Nick," she says his name as she puts one hand on his leg and he stills. He swallows hard as he turns his head and finally looks at her. She smiles reassuringly at him as she takes her hand off his leg and brings it up to run her fingers through the hair on the side of his head before resting it against his face. He closes his eyes as he turns into her hand, her touch grounding him, making him feel whole again, even if just for a moment.
"We'll get back to her," June finally whispers and he opens his eyes to look at her. She smiles at him again and rubs her thumb on his cheek. He loves her so much it feels impossible. "You have to believe that," she finishes her thought as he nods.
"I do," he says honestly, his voice thick. Some days are just harder than others, and he hadn't expected to be blindsided with this today. He lifts his head and June's hand drops back into her lap.
"Did you know I took one of her hats?" June starts suddenly from next to him and he looks at her curiously until she shakes her head, looking down at her hands and continuing. "I took it from the nursery one of my first nights back, I hid it in one of my boots so no one would find it. I hated being away from her so much and I thought that might help. I'm not sure it did, but I liked having it." She looks back up at Nick and shrugs sadly. "Kind of wish I had it now."
He sits still for a moment, debating something, before finally standing, moving to his bookcase and reaching behind his stack of National Geographics. June watches him quietly and curiously as he sits back down next to her, holding his hand out to her offering her what he'd gotten up to retrieve - a tiny pair of white cotton socks. She laughs as the tears start to form in her eyes as as she takes them from him.
"I took them from the laundry room, right after they brought her here," he admits, watching as June runs her fingers over the fabric. "I still can't believe how small they are."
June laughs in earnest as she leans against him and he puts one arm around her, kissing the side of her head, watching as she continues to rub the tiny socks through her fingers, a reminder of what they're fighting for, what they're both missing out on.
"We'll get to her," June repeats, an affirmation, and he feels the disconnect within him start to bridge itself. He kisses her head one more time as he nods.
"We will."
Ten months later, the sun has just come up when they've finished all the paperwork and bureaucratic bullshit at the refugee center and managed to find a beat up old couch against a wall. It reminds Nick of the one he'd had in his old apartment from before, he'd gotten it free on Craigslist. The company on the couch is different now, though, he thinks, as he looks over at June, her arm around Hannah who has finally succumbed to sleep, wrapped in a blue fleece blanket, against her mother's side.
It's only been a few hours but he still can't believe they'd made it here, all three of them, unscathed. June leans against him, resting her head against his arm and he turns to kiss her head before he closes his eyes. He finally feels the weight of months of sleepless nights on his eyelids and the exhaustion is almost overwhelming.
He's only dozed off for a few minutes when the sound of a door opening jerks him back awake, his heart immediately pounding as his hand almost involuntarily reaches for the gun that no longer rests on his hip - he'd surrendered it once they'd arrived at the center. He feels June stir next to him, raising her head off his arm and as he looks to see who's just entered, he feels his heart drop into his stomach.
He can't believe how much bigger she's gotten, it doesn't seem possible for her to have grown so fast. He tries not to think about all the time they've lost as Emily makes her way over to the three of them, a curious Holly resting on her hip, her big blue eyes carefully studying the people on the couch. She's the most beautiful thing he's ever seen. He hears Emily and June conversing around him, but he doesn't take any of it in until he hears his name, his mind solely focused on Holly.
"Nick," June says his name softly, her cheeks wet as she nods towards Holly. "Take her."
He starts to shake his head in protest at her request. He shouldn't be the first one to hold her, June should. He takes in a breath to voice his objection but June shakes her head, like she's already inside his mind.
"I don't want to wake Hannah up. Take her."
He swallows hard as he nods and before he knows it, Emily's leaned down, passing Holly off to him, sitting her down sideways in his lap so she's also facing June. She looks up at him curiously, dark curls falling into her eyes as she blinks. He smiles widely at her, hoping he can keep himself from crying but knowing it'll probably be futile.
"Hi, sweetheart," he whispers to her, as he puts one hand gently on her back, rubbing his thumb up and down. He looks over at June, a matching teary smile on her face, his heart full, his whole life finally here with him, together and safe. "I missed you so much."