"Can… I ask how it happened?"
Ymir refused to make eye contact with the other woman, her hands resting on the lip of the marble sink. She wouldn't have expected anyone outside of their friend group to ask about the conception of their child. The weight of Daniela's stare dared her to turn and meet the gaze, yet Ymir could not bring herself to do so.
"Do you really want to know?" she questioned, her own vision focused on the scenery past the kitchen window. "It isn't a love story…"
Daniela hesitated before she answered, "I'd prefer to, but I don't want to ask for something that would put you outside of your comfort zone."
She closed her eyes, her knuckles growing more prominent as she gripped the sink for support, her arms locking to hold her up. "We were drunk… our small group gets together every now and then with the company of alcohol. I don't think we even let consequences enter our thoughts because we didn't stop for even the briefest moment to realize the risk we were taking. I was too shit faced and too fucking stupid…"
Ymir's eyes shut tightly when she felt Daniela's hand on her shoulder, and she felt the shame burning its way across her face. She began to question her ability to break the news to her own mother in light of her difficulty to explain how this child growing inside her womb had come to be. Her teeth sank down on her bottom lip when she felt the woman urging her closer.
Daniela had wrapped her arms around the girl in compassion, bestowing the unexpected treatment on a woman she'd never known.
"I cannot guarantee Bertholdt's involvement, Ymir," the woman said softly. "But I can promise that I will be here. As a to-be-grandmother and as an older friend..."
Ymir couldn't find words to express her gratitude nor her surprise and hesitation. She instead chose to lean into the shorter woman's arms, hiding her face by tilting her head downwards.
Bertholdt's mother slowly eased them from side to side in a soothing manner. It reminded Ymir of her own mother, the way her mother would comfort her all the way up until she moved out. His mother, similar to her own mother, was very touchy-feely when it came to comforting others.
From the dining room table, Bertholdt could see his mother embracing Ymir. His father had taken him aside to have a private conversation, the two of them now seated at the mahogany table away from the women in the household.
"How well do you know Ymir?"
Bertholdt looked over at his father, his eyes wide and leg bouncing nervously under the table. "Mm?"
"How well do you know her?" Hans questioned once more.
Bertholdt glanced away with a thoughtful expression, the two of them sitting in silence until the time he'd taken to himself to think brought forth reasonable answers.
"I met her back in junior year when she transferred from another school across the state. She kept to herself initially, but after a few class periods spent in the company of Krista Lenz, who has since then been her closest and dearest friend, she opened up to those around her... just a little bit more.
"Back then I only accompanied Reiner to parties, assigning myself to the sober cab position to keep him safe and however many friends I could fit into the Camry. The night I was first introduced to Ymir was the night that Krista approached me while I was hauling Reiner out to the car. She had Ymir draped over her arms to keep Ymir from slumping on the floor. After I got Reiner in the backseat, Krista and I helped put Ymir in as well.
"Since Ymir lived closer to home back then, I dropped off Reiner first with Krista's assistance. Then I drove Krista home and promised her I'd get Ymir home safely. When I got to Ymir's condo I parked out front and tried waking her up. For a while she didn't respond aside from small groans. Then when I opened the back door to the car, she sat up and locked eyes with me.
"I tried explaining to her that I was dropping her off at her house, but she only furrowed her eyebrows and started to climb out of the car. I walked her up to her front door, and she asked who I was so I gave her my name. She nodded and took out her keys, then she resumed looking at me after she unlocked the door and pushed it open a little-'Thank you,' she said before disappearing into her house."
Bertholdt's father had placed his head onto the palm of his hand, his eyes focused solely on his son. "Is that all you know about her, though?"
An embarrassed Bertholdt shook his head, only now aware of the rant he'd gone on to explain how they'd met.
"I know that she's Jewish because she'd correct us when we'd ask how her Christmas was. She has her driver's license, but has never had a car of her own. She works full-time at a convenience store close to the apartment she shares with Krista... Uhm..."
He gnawed at the corner of his lip, wracking his brain for any other details about Ymir.
"She... she's a good person. She's cold and hard to approach at first, but when she feels close enough to you to actually care about you; you get a glimpse of the person who is scared of screwing up. She's got worries similar to my own; fears of being rejected, of failing, of not finding her place in this world. There's a lot we have in common..."
Hans nodded his head slowly, placing a hand on his son's shoulder before he rose from his seat at the table. Bertholdt, unsure of himself, remained in his own chair until his father gestured for him to follow him out of the room before he turned off the light-switch.
Bertholdt and Ymir had been offered a chance to help prepare dinner, and it turned into a full-blown family event by the time the meal was ready to be served. The first Ymir had ever shared with those outside of her own family. By the time the four of them actually sat down at the dining room table, Ymir was sporting an authentic grin.
On the table before them was a casserole dish filled to the brim with cheesy-sausage shell noodles. Ymir and Bertholdt had taken it upon themselves to do most of the cooking; Ymir dealing with the preparation while Bertholdt took the thoroughly cooked, ground beef and tender pasta that his guest had prepared for him so he could add the final two ingredients before they put it in the oven.
The group of four tore apart the beautiful casserole, their stomachs finally full by the time they had finished their meal with blueberry dump-cake dessert. The mother-to-be rested her hand on her swollen stomach, amazed by how full she felt with both a child on the way and far too much in her system.
"How did it taste?" questioned Bertholdt, his smile directed to his parents.
His father was occupied by wiping his mouth and so his mother took the time to give her own opinion, "It was delicious. You two prepared it extraordinarily well. I love it."
"Your mother said all I needed to," Hans said with a hearty laugh, wiping potential remains from his beard.
Bertholdt beamed with pride, some of the stress that had been etched into his face from the early hours of the morning was steam-pressed from existence.
"We'll take care of dishes since you kids worked so hard to make the casserole," Bert's father said whilst scooting his seat back away from the mahogany table. His wife joined him, teasingly putting her dirty dishes on top of his and expecting him to not only carry them to the kitchen, but also pile Ymir and Bert's dishes on as well.
Alone for the first time in hours, the Romanesque couple sat side by side. For a considerable amount of time neither one of them said a word, allowing for the silence between them to grow. It was only when Bertholdt's hand grasped Ymir's that she turned to face him, amber eyes meeting deep slate.
"How are you feeling?" the male asked, peering into her eyes with some concern.
The woman adjusted their hands so she could lace her fingers with his while they conversed, "I'm fine. Just tired and full of food. Kind of bloated feeling… especially with how tight my clothes are beginning to feel with the baby growing."
A small frown tugged down on the corners of his lips, "Do you need new clothes?"
"They'd be nice, but for the time being the clothes I have will do," Ymir replied. "They just don't feel the same, don't worry though. I'll tell you if I need some new pants or a new bra."
The color that invaded Bertholdt's face brought out the light-hearted feel in the air that would often surround them. She laughed a little, squeezing his hand and shaking her head in false disapproval. "You can see me completely naked, impregnate me, and the topic of bras gets you to transition into a tomato?"
A timid smile curled the frown on his lips upwards, "N-no… It's just that now your body is changing so radically, and I realized that you won't be wearing the same kind of clothing that I'm so used to you wearing…"
The thought of apparel hadn't crossed her mind as deep as she would have expected it to by this point, and his statement awoke her awareness to the topic. Her expression grew blank before contorting to pensive. Ymir's focus became dazed while she thought aloud to herself, and Bertholdt. "You're right… I'll need bigger shirts or those hideous maternity shirts, nursing bras… those weird pregnancy pants."
"At least all of your clothes will still be waiting for you after the baby," he replied to reassure her. "If you'd like I can pay for all of the baby's clothing so that you can use your own money for your clothes and anything else you want to purchase."
"Yeah, because we'll need to start stocking up on diapers, clothes, bibs… I really don't feel like listing it all." She began to laugh, remembering just how unprepared they were for parenthood…