Annabeth found herself at the kitchen counter, her fingers gripping the cool granite. Air pried its way harshly past her gritted teeth and into her lungs, only to be pushed back out into the dusty air. She wasn't even sure how she got there from on the porch – her feet seemed to glide across the ground, never touching solidity. Like she was a ghost, a whisper of the person she used to be.
She let her eyes fall closed, one last spent breath slipping from her lips. She was exhausted. Her chest heaved with a miscarried sob as she struggled to keep her composure. When was the last time she let herself cry like this?
There was a clattering on the stairs. She spun around, her hand flying to her wet cheeks. June clung to the banister, staring up at her mother.
"Mama?" the word rang in her ears. Annabeth quickly wiped the remaining evidence from her cheeks, knowing with a stony heart that her daughter had already seen.
"Yes, love?" her voice sounded falsely cheery even to her own ears, warbling at the end. She cursed herself.
Hazel came flying down the stairs, panting. She scooped up June into her arms, scolding her for running off while she was preparing her bath. Annabeth hardly heard any of it.
Hazel looked up and began to apologize, but she had already turned away, busying herself with the dishes from lunch earlier today. She could feel Hazel's eyes on her tense shoulders, the tremble in her hands.
"Annabeth," Hazel said softly. Annabeth's teeth gritted at the sickening pity in her voice. "Are you okay? Do you need me to - ?"
"Could you go get June bathed and ready for bed, please?" she snapped, cutting her off.
A stinging silence came, followed by the soft padding of feet retreating up the stairs.
"Mama?"
She heard it faintly as they were half-way up. That single word was almost enough to send her buckling to her knees. She let the dishes clatter back into the sink, her head falling into her hands.
Time ran together into a colorless sludge. She didn't know how long she was hunched over, her head heavy in her hands. She almost didn't hear Hazel coming down the stairs, wringing her hands worriedly.
Over the past two years, Annabeth had come to know Hazel like a second daughter. She lived two doors down, a university student always looking for a few extra dollars on the side. One babysitting job just led to another until Hazel was a full time nanny in the summer. Hazel, long story short, was a godsend.
Guilt settled in the pit of her stomach, festering. "I shouldn't have snapped at you," she murmured regretfully. Annabeth turned slowly, her mouth wrought into a tight frown. "I'm sorry." The words came out awkwardly, squeezing out of her throat like a circle block pushing into a square hole. Proud Annabeth Chase, she thought drily, at her old tricks yet again.
Hazel smiled, sweet and forgiving but weighted down by a sorrowful tenderness. "Are you okay, Mrs. Chase?" she asked carefully.
Annabeth twisted her mouth. "Don't call me that, Hazel, I'm only nine years older than you."
Hazel smiled, and Annabeth sighed in response. Her insides felt like broken glass. "Did you… did you hear any of that? Out on the porch, I mean."
Hazel hesitated. It was all the answer she needed. She groaned. Great. Just great.
"Did June…?"
"I turned on the bath as soon as I understood what was happening," she assured her. "I don't think it blocked out all of it, though. I think that might have been why she ran downstairs after you came in."
Annabeth turned back to the window above the sink. She could barely make out the neighbor's garden from here, the sunflowers swaying sweetly in the breeze.
"How much did you hear?" her voice came out strong, despite the buckling anguish she felt inside.
"Just… enough, I think." Annabeth squeezed her eyes shut. Hazel knowing her business was one thing; June… her poor June. She supposed it was a good thing she hadn't told her daughter who her father was yet. "Well, if you ask me he kind of had it coming," Hazel supplied weakly. Annabeth managed a smile as she turned to face her nanny.
"Go home, Hazel," she said firmly, gripping the sink behind her to keep her hands from shaking. "I've already kept you too long."
Hazel frowned, surveying her carefully. "Are you sure? I can stay the night if you want…"
"No!" Hazel snapped back looking as if she'd just been slapped. Annabeth felt a surge of guilt again. "I only meant… you have class in the morning. You've already done too much for me today. Go home. I insist."
Hazel nodded, her eyebrows drawn.
Annabeth watched from her spot at the sink as Hazel gathered her things. She stopped at the door. "Mrs…. Annabeth. I – I think you should talk to him. Just… hear him out, okay?"
The door closed quietly behind her, and Annabeth collapsed to her knees. She could feel the cold tile against her skin as she sobbed into her hands.
She struggled up to her feet and numbly climed the stairs, falling into bed. She stared with waterlogged eyes up at the dark ceiling above her.
When she first found out she was pregnant, she had known many sleepless nights, the tear-stained pillows the only reminder of her unshakeable patheticness. Well, that and her swelling belly. Thalia had helped at first. She tried to keep helping after she married Reyna, but it wasn't the same. There was so much happiness in their lives, and only despair in hers. She couldn't take the pity. So many times she would pick up the phone and dial that number from Chicago, but she could never do it. She couldn't stand another person in her life pitying her. Seeing how pathetic she truly was. How weak. After all, she had wanted him to leave. He would've anyway, she was sure of it.
After June was born, she knew she couldn't. June was… hers. She was all she had. She wouldn't let another man ruin both their lives. She wouldn't be so selfish.
So instead she packed her bags and moved. First to Toronto, and then to Munich, and now Sydney – wherever people wanted her.
She changed diapers, cleaned spit-up, threw birthday parties, and did the best she could, all while making a name for herself as an architect.
But it was so much.
Being a single mother was the hardest thing Annabeth had ever done.
And she had just scared away the only guy who could have shared that burden.
Proud Annabeth Chase, she mused, at her old tricks yet again.