DISCLAIMER: I don't own FGT.
A/N: Oh yeah! Updated all my chaptered fics in one day!!! So proud.
I rolled over in bed, frowning before I realized what was wrong. As my eyes opened, I noted the problem and was out from under Idgie's arm in a second. Both hands over to my mouth, I stumbled to the bathroom and didn't even have a chance to flip on the light before I was knelt in front of the toilet, throwing up violently.
"Ruth?" I heard Idgie's voice say worriedly before the light came on. "Oh, God, honey!" she exclaimed and quickly sat beside me, smoothing a hand up and down my back. "Momma!" she yelled after a minute. "Sipsey! Somebody!"
It didn't last long. Shaking, I leaned back into Idgie's arms and she pushed my hair off my forehead. I closed my eyes and rested until Idgie said, "Ruth's sick." Looking up to find out who she was talking to, I saw Sipsey standing in the doorway.
"Come on," she said, motioning for us to follow her. Idgie helped me up, but the sick feeling was quickly passing. In fact, I felt almost normal as she led me to sit on the edge of the bed.
"Are you alright?" Sipsey asked, standing over me with hands on hips. Idgie knelt on the floor, resting her chin on the mattress and looking up at me.
I nodded. "I feel fine now," I assured her. Her hand went to my forehead. "No fever," she said out loud.
"If she feels fine and she's got no fever, then what just happened?" Idgie demanded, sounding panicked. I smiled down at her, giving her hand a comforting squeeze.
"You ain't noticed anything different happening the past few weeks?" Sipsey asked, frowning in thought.
"My face…" I murmured. Then I added more clearly,"My skin broke out." Sipsey's frown deepened.
"Your breasts hurt?" she asked. Idgie looked up at her. I blushed, but nodded. "A little."
Sipsey's next question made me blush even deeper. "When was your last period, honey?"
"A while ago," I said softly, looking down at my lap. "Almost two months."
"And you didn't tell nobody?" Idgie asked.
I shook my head. "I didn't really think about it. I've skipped before; the doctor told me stress could cause it. I always thought it was because of Frank."
"I don't think this time is stress, Miz Ruth."
I could have guessed as soon as I put all the symptoms together. It was obvious, really. I was getting sick, my skin had broken out, my breasts hurt and they were bigger, and, most importantly of all, I had missed a period.
So, I knew before Sipsey told me that I was pregnant.
She must have seen in my face that I knew, because she didn't say anything for a minute. Idgie looked like she didn't want to believe it. "Sipsey," she said, "you don't think…?"
"Miz Ruth's gonna have a baby," the older woman said gently.
She left us after making sure I was alright, and Idgie and I slid back into bed. The sky was just starting to turn grey, and I was shaking again. My lover's arms snaked around me, and I knew my trembling didn't go unnoticed.
I had been living at the Threadgoode house for a month by then, and I knew Idgie so well I could almost tell what she would say to anything I told her, before she said it. The way she didn't say anything, just held me tightly and rubbed her hand up and down on my arm, let me know that she was scared. Her silence was making me uncomfortable.
After a few more minutes, I rolled onto my back. "Well, say something," I mumbled dully.
Idgie slipped her fingers between mine and gave my hand a squeeze. "What do you want me to say?" she laughed uncomfortably.
"I don't know," I sighed, frustrated. "Something!"
She squeezed my hand again. "Do you want it?"
I hadn't let myself think that far yet. Now that the baby was inside of me, now that it was growing and living and its heart was beating inside my body, I didn't want it gone. I wanted to experience the joy that I had heard talked about, the joy and knowledge that I was bringing life into the world. That this little person would be made from my body, and would grow in my womb and, eventually, lie in my arms.
I was in awe as I let myself think about it.
But all the same, for each story about a happy mother giving birth to a beautiful, healthy baby, there seemed to be one about a miscarriage, or a crippled or retarded child, or the mother not making it. I hadn't planned for this to happen; it wasn't my choice to put myself in this kind of position. What if my body, after all of the beatings, wasn't strong enough to support a child? What if I lost the baby?
Images filled my head then—of me just before my wedding, crying for Idgie. Of Frank beating my, my body flung into a wall. Raping me, creating this child that was his as much as mine. Of Buddy Threadgoode, almost my exact age, always smiling and knowing everything would be alright. The agony Momma Threadgoode's eyes when he died. Of Idgie as a laughing, happy baby—I remembered, though I was just five when she was born. Of friends, married earlier than I, holding their newborn children in their arms. Old women at church, teary-eyed thinking of their sons and daughters. Someday, of me, holding my own baby. Watching it grow, raising it with not Frank, but with the woman I loved.
"Of course I want it," I breathed, realizing that I truly did only a split second before saying it.
"Well then, what's there to say?" she smiled at me, slipping her hand through mine.
Three months later, my stomach was beginning to be rounded and Sipsey, with all her superstitions, swore to me it would be a boy. When I asked how she knew, she wouldn't tell me. Idgie laughed when I told her this, but said to believe her.
Idgie seemed tireder lately, which I guess I could understand. When the family found out I was pregnant, her father lent her some money to open a café. We worked hard getting it ready—or, she did. Every time I tried to do something, I was waved away and told to 'take it easy'. At first, it was frustrating, and I usually managed to find an easy job to do—cooking with Sipsey or painting or something. When I got further along, I still tried to work, knowing it would be rude not to at least try, but I was always grateful when told to go sit down. My exhaustion was constant and often all-consuming, which meant Idgie usually had to pick up the slack.
Needless to say, we weren't doing much besides sleeping at night.
One night, though, she came in late as I was lying awake, trying to get comfortable. She kissed me right away, and her hands caressed my swollen belly like she thought it was beautiful. Her head went down, and her tongue went to work, and all the while her hands never left my stomach. After it was over, she kissed first where the baby was enlarging my body, and then my mouth.
"I love you," I sighed, in awe at how she still wanted me even like this.
"Love you too," she replied, curling up close. I could tell she was going to go to sleep, so I hurried to prevent it.
"Idgie."
"Mmm."
"You think I should believe Sipsey that it's a boy?"
I felt her head move up and down in a nod. "She's superstitious, but she's usually right." Her voice was slurred with sleep.
"I got a name for him," I told her proudly.
"Mmm?"
"Yes," I said, laughing a little. "Wake up, silly. This is important."
After some effort, Idgie was sitting up and sounding more coherent when she asked, "So what's his name?"
I smiled at her. "Buddy, Jr."
"Who's last name?" she asked with a yawn.
"Well, that's what I wanted to talk to you about. He is Frank's, Idgie, but I don't want him to be Frank's, do you understand? I don't want Frank to be his daddy."
"So Jamison?"
"I was thinking not."
She didn't say anything.
"I love you, Idgie," I continued, "And I want you to be his Momma, too. I want to raise him together and I want him to have your name."
"Buddy Threadgoode, Jr.," she tried it out. Then she turned to me. "And you think I'm old enough to be a momma?"
I smiled. "I hope so, 'cause I wouldn't ask anyone else."
"I love you. And of course I'll be his momma," she whispered, kissing me.
"I love you too," I whispered back.
Then, as if seized by the same thought at the same time, we looked down at my stomach. "Goodnight, Buddy," we whispered together.
