"You could have been hurt."
It comes out soft, light, like a feather. It's quiet, barely a whisper, so low that if her lips hadn't been moving, Maria would have figured it for a thought. But she said. She said it, and, no matter how quiet it was, Carol's always had ears like an elephant. She turns from where she's laid out on the sofa, still nursing an ice-pack to her ribs and opens one eye, then the other. She gives Maria a look, then sighs, turning her eyes onto the ceiling as she huffs out, "I had it handled".
Maria scoffs. Her hands shake as she scoops some tomato paste out of a glass jar and into the pot of cold spaghetti on the stove. "'Handled'", she repeats, unwilling to take the bite out of her voice.
"Yes, 'handled'. You know, I may be on desk detail, but that does not mean I don't know how to take care of myself, and I sure as hell don't appreciate-"
"Carol." Maria inhales sharply. She leans over the counter, closes her eyes, and rubs her fingers along the bridge of her nose. "I saw the security footage. Cut the bullshit."
For a moment, Carol doesn't say anything. Then, grunting as she no doubt sits up, she lets out a sigh and raises an eyebrow. "Nick?"
Maria shrugs.
Carol scoffs. "Typical."
"Carol, I was worried."
Carol rises from the sofa to walk to the kitchen, tossing open the fridge door, no doubt in search of another bag of ice.
Maria walks over to her, standing behind the door as her foot goes to work tapping rapidly against the floor. "I waited up for you", she says to her. "Eight hours, I waited for you, and you never showed up." She breathes, bringing her hands up to rest them on top of her bonnet, and begins to aimlessly walk about the room. "I had to put in a call to Nick, who's in the middle of fuckknowswhere, to find out you got into a bar fight and landed yourself in the fucking emergency room?"
"I was gonna call you", Carol bites back, glaring at her as she slams the door shut. She places her new ice pack against her stomach, flinching at the first touch. "Those...damn doctors put me under, and I couldn't get to a payphone; what was I supposed to do, go all Obi-Wan and leave a mental message?"
Maria purses her lips. She leans against the counter, tilts her head back, and closes her eyes. "I know", she says through gritted teeth. "And I'm sorry. I know it wasn't your fault, and I'm not-I'm not blaming you. But damn it, Carol, this is the third fight you've gotten into this week. And you didn't come home this time." She pauses to wrap her arms around herself, staring down at the tiled floors beneath her feet, before she softly asks, "What I am supposed to do with that?"
"I don't know." Carol waves a hand through the air and scowls. "But maybe have a little more faith. I can take care of myself."
"Yes. But more times than not, you don't." Carol's eyes narrow, and something about that just makes Maria speak faster, like there's a perpetual clock ticking over her head, and she's sure of neither how much time she has left and just what'll happen when it's run out. "You don't! You just jump into shit, no questions asked, and you leave me here-"
"Hey, it is not my fault that you're stuck in this place", Carol's quick to intercede. "You're the one that decided to quit everything you ever worked for without an explanation. Not me."
Maria falls silent. She goes to open her mouth, but words are failing her, despite the sudden of onslaught of thoughts zipping through her brain.
Could she tell her?
Should she tell her?
And what? Expect her to quit? This is Carol's life; she's not gonna give that up just cuz I'm suddenly eating for two.
"You may be willing to leave it all behind", Carol says, swiping a hand at her as she turns to make her way up the stairs. "But I'm not. And I'm not gonna let some asshole get away with perving when there's something I can do to stop it."
"Carol-"
"No, Marie, you weren't there." Carol shakes her head, her voice going soft and her eyes going wide like she's living it again. "You didn't see how...how scared he looked; you didn't see how helpless he looked; and you didn't see how he just laughed it off, looking around at everybody like he knew that even if he said something, he'd probably get more trouble than help." She clenches her hand around the newels of the staircase; that misty, spaced-out look in her eyes fades away, only to be replaced with a sudden, surging batch of frustration. "Marie, you weren't there."
"No." Maria shakes her head. Then she looks over at Carol and says, "But you were. And let me tell you, if I'd've called Nick and heard that you were anything other than okay, I…" She trails off, and Carol, lingering at the top of the staircase, looks at her expectantly.
"What", Carol says, her body slooping with exhaustion. "Babe, what is it?"
What is it? What isn't it? It's her husband, shipped off for months at a time on the oil rig; it's the gnarly, pink mess of flesh that is her arm and the shitshow that is finding a job in a world where people still look at vets funny; it's the memory of the last time Frank was here, when they slept together, and Maria spent the whole night with a lump in her throat because, the whole time, she was thinking about Carol; it's her morning sickness, her mood swings, her back pains, and the consequential trip to the clinic that revealed it to be exactly what she suspected it was.
It's everything.
So Maria says nothing. "You don't understand", she says as she goes to brush past Carol. She starts the ascent up the stairs and prepares to lock herself in her room, just as she did as a child and she sought respite from her brother. But Carol's always been just the slightest bit faster than her. She shoots up the steps and past her, tossing her arms across the door to her room and glaring down at her.
'"I don't understand?'", she repeats; Maria turns on her heels and starts down the hall, prompting Carol to abandon her spot at the door and follow her. "I don't understand? No, you know what?" She laughs, bitter and mirthless, and continues alongside her. "I don't understand. I don't understand anything that you've done the past few weeks, and I don't understand this."
Maria keeps walking. When she first signed the lease for this place, she thought it was kind of small for the price they were asking. Now, she can't help but look at all the rooms and marvel at just how spacious it all is.
"If you saw that creep, you know damn well you'd've done the same", Carol says, reaching out to grab hold of Maria's arms and hold her still. "So what's fucking problem?"
Maria looks away. Tears are gathering in her ears now, and the last thing she needs is to collapse in on herself. Not when everything's already so fucked to hell.
"Is it me?", Carol says, her voice not as angry but just as panicked. "Is it something I did?"
And just like that, Maria's collapsing, and Carol's falling with her. They drop to the floor, and Carol's still hanging on, and Maria's cheeks are wet with tears. She still won't turn to face her.
"Marie, you've gotta talk to me. Maria? Maria, why are you being like this?"
"I'm pregnant." It comes out low, quiet, soft, like it all started out. God, it how did they get here? Why did she let it get here? Maria looks up from the floor and into Carol's eyes, practically shaking as the words begin tumbling out of her mouth. "I'm pregnant, and I don't qualify for a veteran's check, and I can't get a job, and Frank's gonna be stuck out on the oil platform for another six months, and you-you are always trying to save somebody, and I don't know if either of you are ever gonna make it home okay, and-"
"Hey, hey, hey." Carol's hands go from her forearms to around her stomach, pulling her in close and tight until Maria's left to just tuck her face into the crook of her neck. Her voice has gone mellow, almost crooning, none of the malice and frustration from before. Maria starts to shake, and Carol curses under her breath before quietly saying, "It's okay. It's okay. Babe, listen to me. You're okay. You're gonna be okay."
Maria shakes her head and pressing closer."I-" She inhales, her chest heaving and trembling with the breath, and sucks in her lip. "I need-I need-"
"What?" Carol brushes her hands up and down Maria's sides. "What do you need?"
Maria sniffles. She looks up, drags a hand over her face, and stares into Carol's eyes. "You."
Carol blinks. Then, her face going entirely soft, she pulls Maria in closer, quietly whispering affirmations in her ear as she rocks her back and forward. "It's okay, babe. I'm right here. I'm here."
Hours pass. Or maybe it's just a few minutes, or seconds, Maria's too whipped to really care. Regardless, some time passes, and Carol takes to scooting backwards until they're sitting with her back to the wall and Maria clinging loosely to her chest, like a sleepy kitten. From up above, mid-morning sunlight is spilling in from the windows, casting yellow, heavenly shadows across their faces. When Maria looks up, she finds Carol staring at her like some pieces have begun to come together; not yet willing to decipher what exactly that means, Maria, drops her head against her chest, and just stays there.
"Sorry for worrying you", Carol says, rubbing soothing circles into Maria's forearm.
Maria hums. "Sorry for snapping out."
"Well, shit, you're pregnant; you can always blame it on the hormones." She takes a moment then, no doubt thinking it over, and leans her head back against the wall. "Shit." She looks down at Maria and says, breathlessly, "You're pregnant."
Maria just blinks. "I'm pregnant." She's known for going on two months now. She's stressed over it, cried over it, gotten angry over it, but now that she's said it, now that she's told Carol, she just feels empty. Like the air's been let right out of her and she's waiting for someone to fill her up again. She doesn't know how to feel about that.
"Whatever you want", Carol says, and she doesn't have to finish. And, hell, if that doesn't say something.
"Thank you", Maria gets out before she falls into another fit of sobs.
. . .
They wind up spending the day in bed, watching reruns of 21 Jump Street and eating cereal straight out of the box. Maria's about halfway through her box of Frosted Flakes when she goes to place a hand against her abdomen. She bites her lip and looks out the window, thinking of Frank out at the platform and wondering just how the hell this is ever gonna work out.
"Frank's a good guy", Carol tells her around a mouthful of oats. "He'll come through."
"I know", Maria says, sighing heavily. "I just...I can't get a job with my arm fucked the way it is, and there's word going around that there's a big layoff coming on the rig." She scratches the back of her neck, sighs, and shakes her head. "God, how are we gonna take care of a kid?"
Carol pauses in her chewing; she ducks her head, then shyly looks up to say, "I could help out. If you want".
Maria snorts. "You hate kids."
"Only when they're brats. And...no kid of yours could ever be a brat."
Maria looks up from her lap to look over at Carol, who's gone slightly red in the face. Likewise, she feels her own cheeks heating up and the urge to look away. But she doesn't look away. She holds Carol's stare until thunder rumbles just outside their window and sends the T.V. into a flurry of static.
"I, uh, I got it." She crawls out of bed and makes her way to the T.V., fumbling with the antennae until the signal kicks back in. She's standing there, deciding if she wants the picture to be better, when she feels a pair of arms coming to wrap around her. Maria goes still, her heart pounding madly away inside her chest, and leans back until she can feel Carol's breath against the back of her neck.
"Whatever happens", Carol murmurs into the skin of her neck before placing a hesitant kiss there. "I got your back."
Maria cranes her neck around to get a better look at her. Her eyes dip down to Carol's lips, then back up to her eyes. She leans in close and breathes out, "Carol".
"Yeah", Carol returns, says it like that's all that needs to be said. "Yeah."
They're getting closer and closer and closer until the T.V. signal suddenly jumps and the volume surges. Maria and Carol jump apart, the both of them wide-eyed and breathing heavily as they set about putting some space between them.
"Show's back on", Maria says, shakily crawling back into bed. After a moment, Carol joins her.
There's a space between them now. But nonetheless, Maria can't help feeling they've long since crossed and lost sight of the line.