Disclaimer: I do not own any part of Final Fantasy VII in any way, shape, or form. I own NOTHING!
Chapter 18:
CLOUD
We have officially prolonged buying a new house as long as possible. So when my cast finally comes off and I get a bulky, black walking boot instead, we begin the process of actually looking at the places we've talked about.
It's an ordeal. I've never been one for any kind of shopping anyway, but home shopping really is a whole other realm of shopping.
Up until this point, I just landed wherever fate decided to take me. I was born into my home in Nibelheim. After joining SOLDIER, Shinra – of course – handled our housing when we weren't traveling or on assignment (not that I have much recollection of this; admittedly, most of this is an ambiguous blur in my mind anyway). Then came the jumbled period I was recovering from Mako poisoning when I never really lived anywhere; I just followed jobs and Tifa. Finally, after Meteorfall, Barret, Tifa, and I started construction on the new Seventh Heaven.
The path was always clear. Easy. Obvious. There was always little to no option. But now we do have options, which will require us to really think about where we want to live. Options suggest a choice, and choices are complicated for me.
Most of the houses we look at are close to Edge, but we humor a few closer to Kalm. Cid keeps barking about some homes near Rocket Town. We don't want to go far, though. Tifa and I agreed that we want to uproot as little of our lives as possible. We don't want the kids to have to leave their school or their friends. We want to keep Seventh Heaven close to minimize Tifa's commute. She says she wouldn't mind the drive, and I wouldn't mind taking her there before I start my daily deliveries, but neither of us are crazy about shaving hours off our day by doing this.
It feels like we've been looking at places for years, but we have finally narrowed the choices down to three: one by the market hub in Edge, one near the Chocobo Ranch, and one between Edge and Kalm.
All have different perks. The small one in Edge obviously has location and familiarity on its side. The Chocobo Ranch has the best backyard (complete with that typical, storybook white picket fence feel). Lastly, the Kalm house kind of reminds Tifa and me of our childhood homes, which is pretty bittersweet.
Just as we are about to decide on the house between Edge and Kalm, Reeve calls and tells us about a house he saw on the market nearby.
"I think it would be worth looking at," he'd said.
So, in spite of the intense mid-winter cold, an extra bathroom stop, and some practice contractions (which terrify me much more than they do Tifa), we end up at the outskirts of Edge to look at the house.
Tifa and the kids are bundled up with scarves, hats, and bulky jackets to the point that I can only see their eyes. Unlike the cold in Icicle Village, this cold is damper, more to the bone. This is the gray cold that will dig into you, take up residence, and team up with all kinds of germs and bacteria to make you sick for a few days.
I pray to whatever gods will listen that won't happen. We can't afford any more illness or injury.
"You should've worn your parka," Tifa says as she eyes my attire.
She's right. I'm already folding in on myself, my hands tucked under my armpits and shifting around to attempt to shake off the cold sinking into me. But I'm just happy that she is present enough today to notice. Lately, there have been days when I could have run around naked in the snow, and she wouldn't have noticed.
"This is it!" Reeve holds his arms out, making a grand, ta-da gesture towards the rustic house that still somehow manages to have that distinct, industrial, Edge-like look to it.
It is quaint and homey with its brick pillars, cozy porch, tall windows, small garage, and sleek roofing that kind of remind me a bit of Gongaga architecture. It is definitely more approachable than Seventh Heaven. It is hybrid teetering somewhere between house, apartment, and industrial building, which is pretty uncommon for places in this part of Edge.
The house has something almost...rural about it, a modern home in cottage clothing. There might have even been some flowerbeds here before winter came and took them away. I'm reminded of how flowers surrounded Aerith's house too despite it being hidden in Midgar's slums.
Almost immediately, I have a strange affinity for this place. I'm drawn to it. I would even go as far to say that there is this kind of nostalgic quality to it like the house we liked in Kalm.
"Tifa, look!" Marlene cries and prances around the front of the yard. "There's room for flowers! We could bring some from the church and plant them here."
Tifa smiles and nods as she eyes the area with her. She is quiet but still present and attentive.
"There's more space for gardens in the back," Reeve adds as he digs his hands into his trench coat's pockets and makes a beeline for the porch. "It's certainly not the kind of yard you would have out in the countryside, but it is a really impressive spread considering it is still technically in Edge."
We follow Reeve and the realtor – a short, round woman with Reno-red hair – inside, and the house is just as quaint and homey inside as it is outside. In spite of the lack of furniture and all the glaring empty space, it's warm.
Still, it feels foreign. It is hard to picture our lives here. It is like forcing a square peg into a round hole, especially since we are not the traditional family. Not to mention the fact that my mind will always revert to putting us in Seventh Heaven because that is where we have always been. We are bundled with that place, a packaged deal. I know we aren't leaving it behind completely, but it is so hard to wrap my mind around the fact that soon it won't be the place where I go to sleep at night or the place where I wake up in the morning.
We continue strolling through the space as the realtor goes on and on about whatever room we are in and talks about all the things we could potentially do with each room. She points out all the best features and even goes into ways we could renovate the weaker points.
I'm barely listening, and I doubt anyone else really is either. I'll nod at her occasionally to pacify her, but the whole time, I am internally (and clumsily) juggling watching the kids, checking on Tifa, engaging Reeve, and actually looking at the house.
Beyond the welcoming foyer, is the living area. Adjacent to the living room, is the dining room and open kitchen complete with an island and little windows over the sizable sink that offer a nice view of the tiny backyard. From there, the master bedroom, the master bath, a guest bedroom, and guest bath cohere to the various hallways scattered around like leaves clinging to skinny tree branches.
Upstairs, you have room for the kids, an office, and maybe even a playroom. Like everything downstairs, most of the flooring is hardwood, the walls varying shades of the same warm, creamy neutrals. The windows are bare, of course, but they are tall, offering us lots of natural light even though it is very overcast and gloomy out today.
This place reminds me of Nibelheim, but not to the point that it is painful for me. Somehow, it remains its own entity.
Maybe it's because I'm older. Maybe it is because I'm more at peace with my past and even myself. Regardless of why, the association I make between my old home and this place doesn't hurt me. Sure, it stings, but I find it comforting in ways I wasn't capable of before. The part of me that misses Mother, the part of me that longs for the innocence that I left in Nibelheim, the part of me that remembers the bright spots of my childhood welcomes that comfort.
I'm able to compartmentalize the memories. It isn't all bad. Thoughts of my home aren't all bitter. Some memories have been salvaged. Not all of them are sullied or burned by the fires Sephiroth started. They don't ruin the potential for new ones either. Not anymore.
My mind starts filling this house with our things on its own without any prompt from the red-haired realtor or even my own consciousness. It just comes naturally. I think about what can go where and how we might set everything up once we get in. I think of how we can position the dining room table and a highchair. I think of the rooms that could use rugs or paintings. I think of the kind of living room furniture we could get and how we could enjoy the fireplace on cold days like today. I think of how the baby can be downstairs with us – at least for a little while. Once they get bigger, they could have a room upstairs, if they wanted.
I'm taken aback by how easy these thoughts come to me, how natural. Normally, my mind doesn't do this kind of thing – especially with topics like this. I'd never thought this kind of life was for me. For a long time, I didn't think there would be a life beyond my early twenties at all, and even when I did indulge these unrealistic fantasies, I never thought I'd actually have a real house like this with a family. It had all seemed so impossible, something that would forever be out of my grasp because of how broken and damaged I was. My life had been so dismal and filled with one pain after another that I figured that was how it would always be. So it is laughable now to be standing in this house with a wife, two not-so-kids, and another on the way.
But here we are, and this house seems to be a hodgepodge of all the things we like about the other houses. It isn't too big. There is a yard but not too much of one that it would need a lot of care. There are plenty of rooms. It is in Edge, but we aren't nearly as close to the people we still make uncomfortable. As a bonus, the market and the school are within a reasonable distance and so is Seventh Heaven.
"Well?" I probe lightly, my hands deep in my pockets as I join Tifa in the kitchen, my orthopedic boot thudding bulkily and clumsily against the freshly polished hardwood floor. "What do you think?"
Her fingers stroll along the shiny, granite countertops before looking down at her own boots. "I think my feet are swollen…"
I chuckle a little as she wiggles on her heels.
Denzel and Marlene's footsteps and laughter echo upstairs as they have a surprisingly hearty exchange with Reeve and the realtor. Tifa's eyes follow the sound, a soft smile on her lips. I catch myself smiling too. Those normal, everyday noises breathe so much life into this place, making it even easier to picture our lives transferring here.
The kids haven't stopped moving since we crossed the threshold. They've been running around asking more questions than Tifa or me combined, opening all the doors, closets, and cabinets, bolting inside then outside and inside again. I haven't seen them this hyped up in a long time.
It takes me back to when we were building the new Seventh Heaven. Marlene was so excited and invested. She had all these ideas (more than me) and was eager to implement them. She'd connected with it instantly, and it feels like the same thing is happening here; except this time, Denzel has a say too.
"I can tell you like it." There is a knowing grin on Tifa's face.
I take another step toward her. "But do you like it?"
She blinks a few times, her eyes dark from the continuous lack of sleep. "I do. I have a feeling about it – a feeling I didn't have at the other houses, you know? And it's practical. It makes sense and checks all our boxes. It has everything we said we wanted."
I briefly touch her stomach through all her winter layers. "What do they think?"
Tifa looks down and pats the sides of her belly. "There's been movement as we've looked around, so I guess that's a good sign."
Marlene and Denzel come bounding down the stairs with Reeve following casually behind them at a distance.
"Can we cast our vote now?" Marlene asks, folding her hands over her heart.
"Sure." I shrug a shoulder, and I think I'm grinning like a jackass. Her enthusiasm is infectious.
Denzel points downward. "We want this one."
Our eyes dart back to Marlene, and she quietly nods her agreement.
Tifa is suddenly stern. "You're sure? Really think about it. If we put a bid in for this house, that could be it. The other places will be off the table."
"We're sure," Marlene replies almost instantly, and Denzel doesn't flinch. They are clearly a united front on this.
They seem...excited - much more excited than I ever thought they'd be about a new house. They've been really resistant to the idea and the whole house hunting process in general, but I guess they've decided that if we have to move, this is the place.
I look over at Tifa, and we stare at each other for a while. No words are said. Then we look around again, taking it all in. A few more seconds pass where we continue to digest it all in silence, but that silence feels like a lengthy, thorough conversation. It must feel like that to the others too because no one interrupts us.
"You don't have to make a decision right now…" Reeve briefly pats my shoulder.
"No. We are all on the same page." The words are instinctive. I don't hesitate. I know they are true.
A few hurried conversations between Reeve, us, and the realtor later, and it was over. The bid was in.
We stop for lunch with Reeve at a café downtown. This is done partly in celebration of our decision, partly because we haven't seen Reeve in a while, and partly because I'm hoping being out of the house will help Tifa become more like Tifa again.
It's an enjoyable afternoon. Reeve is someone who is surprisingly easy to talk to. I never would have thought I'd feel this way whenever I first met him, but Reeve is oddly comforting. He isn't like Cid or Barret who sometimes talk more at you than with you. Reeve makes you feel like you are heard. He listens.
We talk about old times. We talk about new aspects of our lives. He talks about the WRO (I notice Denzel pays particularly close attention whenever the conversation takes this turn) and fills us in on all the progress they are making and what they still struggle with. He asks the kids about school. He asks about the baby, asks about how Tifa is feeling. These questions make the table feel a bit more crowded, hotter, but Tifa takes it all in stride. In fact, she is transparent. She is honest with him. She doesn't go into great detail, but she tells him about our low points and well as our highs.
Reeve folds his hands under his bearded chin, which has a few small flecks of gray hidden in it now. "I'm sorry you haven't been feeling well, but hopefully, the worst of it is behind you."
"I hope so too," she agrees, picking at the rice in her bowl. She's barely eaten.
"Oh! That reminds me. I got brought you something." Reeve jolts upright before disappearing under the table to fumble with the satchel he'd brought with him. He pops back up with a small pink and blue bag.
"Reeve," Tifa breathes, "you didn't have to do that."
"No." He nudges the bag towards her. "But I wanted to."
Denzel and Marlene lean across the table toward Tifa and the gift as she starts removing the tissue paper. Slowly, she pulls out a small stuffed cat that I realize is an exact duplicate of Cait Sith.
Tifa covers her mouth to muffle her mirth. "Reeve! Did you make him yourself?"
He beams with poorly concealed pride. "I thought this might be a good introduction to…Uncle Reeve. For now, he doesn't talk or move, but we can modify him later."
"Thank Holy it doesn't talk…" I mumble as I eye the plush toy. Upon further inspection, I see that it isn't exactly like the original Cait Sith. This one is actually cuter, fluffier, clearly designed for a small child.
Reeve smiles at me. "I held off on that feature just for you, Cloud."
"I appreciate that." I almost chuckle.
Tifa cradles the doll to her chest before passing it to me, and I quickly, pass it along to Marlene's waiting hands.
"But you can make it fully-functional like the original? Like with its own personality, abilities, and everything?" Denzel asks as he inspects the physical design of the cat more closely.
"Sure," Reeve replies, still beaming with pride.
Denzel makes hard eye contact with me. "Cloud, you have to let him do it. It could be like a special guardian!"
"Trying to find a way out of babysitting already, huh?" I throw back, and everyone laughs.
The waitress brings us our check, and Tifa excuses herself to go to the bathroom yet again. This time Marlene goes with her, leaving just us guys at the table.
"Hey, um, have you heard anything from Rufus?" I ask even though I probably shouldn't bring this up with Denzel sitting next to me, but I've been working on treating him more like an adult and less like a kid lately.
"Not recently." Reeve downs the last of his water. "Why?"
I seriously consider not saying anything else. I could easily drop it, and I don't really want to get into it, but I do. I feel like I owe it to him. I also feel like he might be able to help.
"Reno and Rude came nosing around Seventh Heaven a while back. They wanted a blood sample from me and said some stuff about Jenova research."
Reeve is silent and pensive for a while. "This is news to me, but I can't say I'm surprised. That would explain why they've been quiet lately. What did you say to them?"
"Nothing. They asked me to think about it. I haven't heard from them since, and I'm not going to reach out."
"Probably for the best. But let me know if they contact you about this again."
"…They asked about the baby too," I add reluctantly, and I feel Denzel's eyes on me.
Reeve scratches at his temple. "Yes. I suppose it would make sense for them to inquire about that, wouldn't it? Old habits die hard… I hate to say it, but you and your family will always hold some interest for them and probably others."
I fight not to grind my teeth to dust in my mouth. "I know. It won't help that the baby is…like me."
The altered version of me…
"What do you mean, Cloud? Has something happened?" He seems almost wounded by my words. Hell, they wound me. And I don't have to look to know that Denzel is upset by what I've just said, what I shouldn't have said.
I glance behind me to be sure Tifa hasn't emerged from the bathroom yet. She hasn't, so I continue. "Tifa's been…struggling. It doesn't sound too different from other pregnancies where Geostigma and Jenova cells are involved – pain, bouts of depression, hallucinations, panic attacks. The doctor insists that she's fine. There is nothing wrong with her or the baby physically, but-"
"Try not to assume the worst." Reeve stops me.
"No. I need to, especially if they're doing this kind of research, if they are playing around with this stuff again. And I'm counting on you to help us if it gets out of hand. You'll tell us if you hear anything, right?"
Reeve suddenly seems very professional and stiff. "Of course, I will, and I'll do what I can to find out how far it has gone. We won't let history repeat itself. We've come too far to start looking back now. I just wish you would've told me sooner."
He's right. I should have called him about this sooner, but I've been so caught up with everything else that it fell to the wayside. With Tifa getting worse and worse, all the Rufus stuff just felt like a fly occasionally whizzing by my ear, something annoying but swift and easily forgotten. That is, until I started coming to terms with the fact that I have indeed passed my corruption onto our unborn child.
"Sorry," I mumble, but the conversation ends abruptly with Tifa and Marlene's return to the table.
Tifa subconsciously straightens the plates on the table and tucks the Cait Sith affectionately under her arm. "Ready to go?"
I'll admit it. I dreaded coming home.
I feel good about today. I feel good about the house and even the bid we put in for it, but in my gut, I knew things could take a turn when we got home. In a way, it felt inevitable.
We've taken on a new routine. It is like we've evolved with each stage of this pregnancy, and this stage has been particularly challenging for me.
A part of me now longer knows what to do. I just go down the list of things I've trained myself to ask:
"Would you like to talk about it or do you just want me to sit with you?"
"What can I do to help?"
"Want me to hold you?"
And I always follow up with: "I'm not leaving. I love you."
I've taken on even more duties around the bar. No matter how much I ask I know Tifa would never flat out tell me what she needs or what I can do to lighten her load, so I take it upon myself to just…do things.
I clean. I get groceries and other items from the market. I spend more time with the kids. All the while, I am conscious of the fact that I don't need to take too much off her plate. A lot of these tasks and chores are good for her. They are a distraction. They keep her mind off things. She enjoys them. At the same time, I have that old clichéd notion that she should basically be on bed rest even though I know good and damn well that she'd hate that, and it wouldn't actually help anything. If anything, it would make everything worse.
Another struggle for me in all of this is that I feel like I have to have it more together than normal. I can't waver. I can't come apart. All of my issues have to take the backseat, and they can get pretty impatient back there. They are like needy, spoiled children on the verge of a major tantrum.
I feel that tantrum brewing now, and the repression causes other issues. It seems to magnify everything in me. It makes all the inner voices louder, and they chant all of my fears, my worries, and my doubts back to me. To make it worse, the voices seem to warp; their tone changes, their persona. Healthier thoughts are my own voice, sometimes Zack's or on very rare occasions, Aerith's. The darker thoughts, the unhealthy thoughts, those sound like Kadaj or Hojo. The darkest thoughts, those sound like Sephiroth.
This is your fault, he says. See? You were never supposed to have children. You should have gone off and died alone with your Geostigma. You were stupid to think you could have a normal life like everyone else. The white picket fence and the backyard are not for you. You've said so yourself.
They come and go. Like always, some days are worse than others, but I fight the bad days harder than I ever have. I fight them for Tifa, so that she can have her bad days without me making them worse. I want to help her through them, and I can't do that if I am caught up with my own mess. I'm not sure if I can do it at all.
So, for now, I settle for telling Barret about the house, hoping this will prolong the inevitable and continue to distract us.
"Ya actually put a bid on it?" Barret roars once we finish giving him the news.
I recline into a booth and prop my big, ugly boot on the table. "We all liked it. It just seemed like the right thing to do."
"Well, I hope ya get it." He finishes wiping down the bar and approaches us. "Speaking of, I got a little announcement of my own."
Everyone perks up. I try to adjust into a more upright position. Marlene and Denzel stop playing with Whiskey. Even Tifa - who went to the couch cocooned in a blanket because she was nauseous - becomes much more alert.
"Whether you get this house or even if ya end up with another one, I've decided I'm gonna take this place."
Tifa looks like she's about to flip off the back of the couch. "You're what?"
"Really?!" Marlene jumps to her feet and rushes toward him, eyes wide.
"Yep! When you guys move out, I wanna move in. That way you ain't gotta worry about rentin' this place out once you're outta here." He slaps Tifa on the back. "It'll be just like the old days! I been meanin' to come back to Edge more permanently anyway. You just finally gave me the last nudge I needed."
Stunned. I'm stunned. I hadn't seen this coming even though I should have. It makes sense. Whenever we first started building this place, I'd always gotten the sense that it was strongly linked to Barret in the same way the original had inadvertently been his too. That wasn't how it played out, of course. He got caught up with everything in North Corel, and we rooted ourselves here, so it just never happened.
"If that's alright with you two?" He raises an eyebrow, looking at us expectantly. He is shockingly humble in that moment as to make us not feel pressured or persuaded.
Tifa and I stare at each other. I can tell she is as surprised as I am but not in a bad way.
"I think it's great." Her eyes brighten as she secures the blanket around her shoulders. "Don't you, Cloud?"
"Yeah. Yeah, I do."
Barret slams hands on the nearest table like a gavel. "Then it's decided!"
I'm floored by just how much relief I feel in that moment. Tifa and I slouch back into our seats from the weight being lifted. I hadn't even known how much this was bothering us until Barret took it off our plate, and I saw Tifa's drastic shift in body language.
Marlene jumps onto Barret's back, and he lifts her onto his shoulder just like he did whenever she was significantly smaller than she is now. They continue to roughhouse and laugh, and it is contagious. The rest of us start laughing too, and it is the best laugh we've had since Tifa's episode.
This sparks newfound hope in me. A light reemerges at the end of the tunnel. I'm reminded of how Tifa and I kept saying that everything would work out, how we will get through it. Up until this point, I wasn't sure how much I believed that. They just felt like words, something to comfort us while we really figured out what we'd do, but for some reason, this changes things for me. Barret has just provided proof that things can and will work out with how effortlessly all of this just snapped together for us.
You can do this, I tell myself. You can do this…
The celebration doesn't last long, though. Tifa gets up abruptly and rushes into the bathroom. I know she's going to lose everything she'd managed to eat at lunch.
I hold my hand up to stop the others and gracelessly wiggle out of the booth, limping after her. "I've got it."
As expected, I find her in the bathroom on the floor.
I kneel next to her. I pat her back, try to keep her hair out of the way, and offer a damp cloth when she pulls away from the toilet.
Tifa curls into a ball but is careful to keep her distance from me. She stays like that for a while as if she is afraid to move or speak. She is trembling, subtly. She's in some form of pain. To what extent, I don't know.
My mind is rampant with questions I should ask, but none of them come out. They lodge inside me.
"Are you okay?" I scoot closer to her. "Do we need to call someone?"
Still shuddering, she shakes her head. "No. It's fine. She – or he – just didn't like something from lunch."
I inch a bit closer and pull her to me, and we sit on that cold tile together in silence. I surrender all my concerns to her judgment. I leave it in her hands. If she says we don't need to call anyone, then I trust her.
"What can I do?" I finally ask, running my fingertips up and down the length of her back. "Would you like a bath?"
"Maybe. I'm just…uncomfortable."
"Uncomfortable how?"
She shrugs against me, her hands fisting the fabric of my shirt against my chest.
Again, I choose not to push for answers, answers she may not even have. I just prepare to go through our new routine, to say what I've been training myself to say: "I'm not leaving. I love you."
A/N: Thanks so much for reading and reviewing!
I'm alive! I apologize if you guys thought I abandoned you. I sprained my ankle just before the holidays (my punishment for breaking Cloud's leg!), and then the holidays started. With all that craziness, it has been really hard for me to get back into the swing of things. Plus, this chapter proved to be exceptionally challenging for me. I went back and forth, writing and re-writing countless times before I felt even somewhat comfortable posting it. Hopefully, you guys enjoyed it regardless. I guess a crummy chapter is better than no chapter at all!
I hope all of you can forgive me for the delay, and I look forward to hearing from you! You've been missed!
Thanks again for reading and sticking with me! I appreciate you more than I could ever put into words!