Chapter 109
When Clarke woke up, her first thought was that she'd slept wrong. Because her whole midsection was kind of cramped up and sore. She tried to stretch out a bit, hoping that would alleviate some of the pain, but it didn't, so she just resigned herself to the feeling, got up out of bed, and made a quick pit-stop in the bathroom before she went to check on Avery. She yawned, sat down on the toilet, and started mentally going through some of the things she wanted to get done today when she spotted something in her underwear that she hadn't seen there for over a year now, something she had, at one point, been praying to see: blood. There wasn't much of it, and it was browner in color than it was red. But combined with the cramps squeezing her midsection, she felt like there was only one reason it could be there.
Dammit, she thought, not so concerned with the possibility of her underwear staining or having to change the bedsheets now or even how uncomfortable her back and stomach were. Getting her period again really signified the end of an era, her pregnancy era. And she hadn't quite been ready for that to end.
Later that day, Raven and Murphy came over, just to hang out and keep her company. While Murphy planted himself at the kitchen counter with his laptop, doing some editing on his new video—apparently the rant about turtlenecks had actually happened—Clarke sat down with Raven on the couch and launched straight into lamenting. "I got my period again."
"Finally," Raven said.
"What do you mean, finally? Some women don't get it again for, like, a year. Sometimes even more than that." She frowned, wishing her body wasn't in such a hurry to move on. "I don't understand. I've been exclusively breastfeeding. Now I've got not enough milk coming out up top and too much blood coming out down there."
"Oh, wow," Murphy piped up, "that's gross."
Raven shot him a warning glare and said, "The female body is an amazing thing, boyfriend, and we won't make remarks like that in Clarke's house. Besides, think of all the gross stuff that comes out of your body."
He smirked. "You seem to like it just fine."
"No, he's right. It is gross," Clarke agreed. "I hate my period. I don't want it back. Not yet." Of course getting her period back meant she'd be fertile again, so that was obviously something to keep in mind, but she was even more concerned about how this would affect things with Avery. "You know, this is just gonna make breastfeeding even harder. And I read all this stuff about how it might taste different to her now, so that's just great. It's like the universe is just against me on this."
"That sucks," Raven empathized.
"And guess what? So far, the cramps seem a lot worse. And my cycle could be irregular, which means I could be walking around in white shorts just ten days from now, and then boom! Time to surf the crimson wave again."
Raven let out a little laugh at that euphemism but still said, "I'm sorry. I know this isn't what you want."
"Yeah." Clarke pouted. "Plus, now I gotta get back on birth control again."
"What?" Murphy spat, looking up from his computer screen. "You weren't on it before?"
"No, when you're exclusively breastfeeding, there's, like, a less than one percent chance you'll get pregnant," she informed him.
"So after you get pregnant . . . and you breastfeed . . ." he said slowly, the wheels of his mind just visibly turning. ". . . the guy doesn't have to wear a condom?" He grinned at his girlfriend and said, "Raven, come here. Let me knock you up."
Raven rolled her eyes. "So romantic, isn't he?"
"Oh, yeah," Clarke said sarcastically. She picked up her phone when she heard Avery crying, but she didn't even need to check the video on her baby monitor app to know that she'd just soiled herself during her nap. "Hey, Murphy, that's her diaper change cry," she told him. "You wanna go try your hand at it?"
He crinkled up his nose and said, "No, thanks. I'm good."
"Then maybe hold off on the baby-making," she suggested, getting to her feet. "I'll be back," she announced as she headed upstairs to try to break her record. Currently, her fastest diaper-change was one minute, fifty-eight seconds, but she felt like she could beat that.
...
"Thanks for coming with me, Aurora," Clarke said as her mother-in-law accompanied her down the first aisle at the grocery store. It made things so much easier on her to just have to push the cart without also trying to carry Avery. Her little girl was strong, but still not quit old enough or big enough to sit in the shopping cart yet.
"No problem," Aurora said. "I had the day off, and I wanna try to help out as much as I can while my son's away."
Clarke grabbed a container of strawberries, looked them over to see how fresh they appeared, and put them down in the cart. "Have you talked to him at all?" she asked as they continued along.
"No. Neither has Octavia," Aurora said. "I think you're the only one he's called."
Clarke nodded, wondering if that was a good sign or a bad sign. Or maybe it wasn't any sign at all. He had a limited amount of time he could be on his phone, so it made sense for him to only call or video chat with her. "What did you guys talk about that day before he left?" she asked, curious, although she also didn't want to prod if it was none of her business. "He didn't say anything about it, but it seemed like whatever you said really struck a chord with him."
"I think it did," Aurora agreed. "He asked me about his father."
"His . . . his father?" Clarke sputtered in surprise. He hardly ever mentioned him, so that was kind of weird. Although, she supposed there was no telling how much he actually thought about him.
"Yep, he wanted to go see him," Aurora revealed. "But I had to tell him that he died."
"What?" Clarke gasped, slowing her pace a bit.
"Yeah, a few years ago. And it was a car accident. Might've been some alcohol-involved."
Clarke shuddered, because that was . . . definitely eerie. In fact, it sent a chill right up her spine. "Guess that explains why it struck a chord then," she said.
Aurora nodded sadly. "His father was . . . he wasn't a bad person. Not by any means. In fact, he had a lot of traits that made him a good man. He just wasn't ready to have a child and . . . well, he had his demons, too. Even back when I was with him, it was obvious that alcohol was something he was gonna struggle with. And I hate to say it, but I think Bellamy may have inherited his drinking problem."
It wasn't a pleasant thought, but it made sense. "They do say that kind of thing can be hereditary."
"Which is why I should've told him about it," Aurora said regretfully. "Or you. Especially after you came to me and told me was drinking. But what did I do? I just told you to monitor it. Because I didn't want to overreact." She sighed, shaking her head, and mumbled, "Sometimes I'm not a very good mom."
Clarke gave her a look and reminded her, "If Bellamy was here, he'd say you're the best mom ever."
"Yeah, he would say that." She smiled a little, but it faded pretty fast. "He should've known his risk factors, though. I should've told him. Maybe then he would've been more cautious."
Clarke understood why she was being hard on herself. It wasn't all that different than what she and Miller and Murphy had been doing. She wanted her to understand that there had been a lot of contributing factors, though, and that the reasons for this didn't just revolve around one thing or one person. "That night that he got in the accident . . ." She swallowed the lump in her throat that always formed when she thought about the way they'd yelled at each other, how mad they'd both been. "We had a really big fight. A huge one. It was bad, probably the worst argument we've ever had. To tell you the truth, I wasn't sure we could overcome it."
"And now?" Aurora asked.
She pictured that proud smile on Bellamy's face the other day as he'd listened to her sing, and she couldn't help but smile a little, too. "Now I feel like we can. He seems like he's doing good, Aurora. I just hope he can keep it up when he comes back home."
Aurora nodded in agreement, then inquired, "Any idea yet when that'll be?"
Although Clarke didn't have any answer for her, she'd started to wonder about that herself.
...
"Tuesday," Bellamy said as they Zoomed that night.
"Tuesday," she echoed. "Like this coming Tuesday?"
"Yep. That'll mark three weeks that I've been here."
Everything she'd read had assured her that sometimes people didn't need to do inpatient rehab for a whole month, but she couldn't help but wonder if three weeks was too soon. "Do you feel like that's enough?" she asked him.
"I think so," he said. "Trust me, Clarke, I've been doing a deep dive on all my issues."
She re-adjusted her iPad when the stand started to fall down a bit, and said, "Well, if you think you're ready and your doctor thinks you're ready, then . . . come home."
He grinned and said, "I'm excited."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah. I know it's not all over, though. I'll have to find a therapist there, start goin' pretty regularly."
She nodded, glad that he was being realistic about things. He wasn't just going to be able to come home and transition back into normal life right away.
"My doctor said he knows a guy who works in that office right near the hospital," Bellamy went on. "You know, that one with the weird tree out front? I always say it looks like a bodacious woman."
"Oh, yeah, Dr. Wallace? My mom was telling me about him," she said. "Apparently he's great. And kind of old, so you know he's been doing this a long time."
"Yeah, so maybe I could set up an appointment with him."
"I'll do that for you," she volunteered.
"You sure?"
"Yeah, it's no problem." She had plenty of time to call his office tomorrow, and with Dr. Wallace knowing her mom, maybe she had a little bit of an inside track to get Bellamy's first appointment scheduled for sooner rather than later.
"Okay, thanks," he said.
"So . . ." She grabbed her iPad out of its holder when the holder started to fall again, and brought the device closer so that her face was taking up most of the screen. "Tuesday then."
"Tuesday," he repeated.
That gave her four more days to make sure their home was as supportive of an environment for him as possible. She'd already long gotten rid of the alcohol he'd had in the fridge, but she also wanted to make sure she was ready to give him the most structured routine possible. She'd done some reading about how it helped to have a lot of exercise equipment on hand at home, and lots of food and different ingredients to they could spend time cooking meals together. She also wasn't totally opposed to getting a pet, because even though that would be a little more responsibility, Bellamy had mentioned that he'd gotten to spend some time with therapy animals while he'd been there, and he really liked it. She'd let that be a decision they made together, though, if he decided it was something he wanted.
"I'm gonna bring you a surprise," she decided, feeling like she knew of one thing that could make Tuesday even more memorable for him.
"What kind of surprise?" he asked.
She shook her head. "Nope, no hints. You'll just have to wait and see."
"Dammit," he swore, but he didn't try to get any clues out of her. "I'm ready," he said. And he really did sound ready.
"I'm ready, too," she told him. This beach house, as nice as it was, just didn't feel the same without him in it. She was ready to have her family be whole again.
...
Clarke sat in the seat of her bedroom window, watching as her dad hauled yet another suitcase out to his vehicle. Her mom wasn't helping, but was rather just standing there with a scowl on her face. They didn't say much to each other, but whenever they did, their facial expressions and body language told the same old story: still fighting.
It was a little alarming to Clarke that her dad wasn't just taking one bag or one suitcase. It looked like he'd packed up everything, or at least everything he cared to take with him. She'd made the mistake of peeking into his office last night, and it was almost empty. She was sure that, if she opened up his bedroom closet, all his clothes would be gone. He didn't want to have to come back for anything. Maybe he wouldn't even come back for her.
Once he'd finally gotten his car loaded up, he looked up to her window. She didn't want to have to see him drive away, though, so she pulled her curtain shut, crossed her arms over her chest, and just sat there in a now relatively dark room, waiting for her mom to come check on her. That happened a couple minutes later when there was a soft knock on her bedroom door. Her mom twisted the doorknob, came into the room, and didn't say anything for a few seconds. Clarke finally broke the silence herself by asking, "Is he gone?"
Her mom sighed heavily and confirmed, "Yep, he's gone."
And never coming back, Clarke thought somberly. Even though they'd only told her a few days ago that they were getting a divorce, the quickness with which he'd moved out made her feel like there was a sense of finality about this. He might come back to visit her once in a while, but he'd never spend one night in that house ever again. They'd never sit down for a family dinner, just the three of them. Those days were over.
"Remember, he said he'll call you later, though," her mom said.
Truth be told, she wasn't sure whether or not she was even going to answer the phone when he did. "Where's he gonna stay?" she asked.
"At a hotel, until he finds a new place." Her mom walked over to the window, sat down in front of her, and exhaled disappointedly again. "Oh, Clarke . . . I'm so sorry to put you through all of this. I know this can't be easy for you. I'm finding it pretty painful myself."
"Really?" Clarke challenged. "You don't even seem that sad." She felt like she'd been move devastated than this when Bellamy had left, and he'd only been her boyfriend.
"I am. I am sad," her mom insisted. "I love your father. Part of me will probably always love him. But this is just how it goes sometimes. Sometimes, even when two people love each other very much, they just can't make it work."
Clarke didn't like how her mother was talking to her like she was a kid, like she was incapable of understanding the complexities of a real relationship. "Sometimes they can," she pointed out, wishing her parents had fallen into that category. Not every couple split up when things got hard.
...
In some ways, Tuesday came slowly. There were some nights where Clarke would just lie in bed counting down the hours just to remind herself that they were actually getting closer. But then she had moments, too, where it seemed like Tuesday was coming at her at the speed of light, and she worried she wasn't prepared. What if Bellamy needed something at home that she hadn't gotten for him yet?
Regardless of how slowly or quickly the time went, it did go by, and eventually Clarke awoke on Tuesday morning. She was supposed to go get Bellamy a little before noon, so she had plenty of time to go about her morning at a somewhat leisurely pace. Feeding Avery took nearly an hour, once again, but at least her rediscovered period seemed to be subsiding, and the cramps weren't too bad. Even if they'd been making her feel like she was being cut in half, noting would have stopped her from driving up to Baltimore to bring her husband home that day. Nothing.
When she pulled into the parking lot of the rehab center, she hoped that it was the last time she would ever have to do so. As thankful as she was that places like this existed, and as nice as the staff and facilities there all were, she never wanted to come back again.
Carrying her surprise with her down the hall to his room, she passed by Melvin's room and heard him and George laughing loudly inside. Bellamy's room, in contrast, was quiet when she knocked on the door. Just like last time, she heard his footsteps as he sprinted to answer it. When he threw open the door and saw that she'd brought Avery with her, his whole face registered shock.
"Surprise," she said.
"Oh my god." He scooped Avery out of her arms and hugged her like she was his whole world. And she probably was. "Hey, sweetheart," he said, tears streaming down his face. "It's me, Daddy. You remember me?"
Avery let out a little coo as if to say yes.
"I missed you so much." That smile on his face had to be the most heartwarming thing Clarke had ever seen. It brought tears to her eyes just watching him hold her. In that moment, it didn't matter what he'd gone through, because he was so clearly still the best dad in the universe.
"I didn't know you were gonna bring her," he said, cradling the baby.
"I knew you'd wanna see her right away," she said.
'Yeah. Thank you." His eyes locked onto hers for a moment, and he looked so happy.
"Just say it," she told him. "You know you want to."
His eyes lifted up to lock onto hers, and he grinned a bit before saying, "Hey, Princess."
Clarke felt like her heart fluttered in her chest when he said that. Something about those two words and the look on his face whenever he said them . . . electric.
Bellamy would, of course, not put Avery down once he had her in his arms, and she didn't expect him to. He brought her over to his wall of coloring pages and asked her to pick out which ones he should bring home. Whenever she reached out to touch one, he took that as a sign that she liked it, took it down off the wall, and put it in the side pocket of one of his bags. He also insisted on bringing her over to Melvin's room to show her off to him and George. The two men were in the middle of a card game but stopped playing long enough for Bellamy to brag up what a perfect daughter he had. He also got to say goodbye to them, and they wished him luck. They both gave Clarke a hug, and she found herself hoping for both them and their families that they would be able to go home soon, too. They were nice guys, and they'd definitely been good friends to Bellamy while he'd been here.
Before getting released, Bellamy had to sit down with the facility director one last time to go over the medication he'd been prescribed, and Clarke of course sat down alongside him. He had Avery in his lap, and she was being very well-behaved and non-disruptive, so it didn't take the director long to explain all the pills and what they would do. There were three bottles, though, so Clarke just wanted to make sure she had them all straight and knew which was which before they left.
"Okay, so this is the anxiety medication," she said, holding up the biggest bottle.
"Correct."
She picked up another recalling, "And this is the one that helps block out the euphoric alcohol feelings."
"Yes," the director confirmed.
"And this other one's optional."
"Yes. Bellamy, if you feel yourself staring to relapse, take one of these," the director said, jiggling the smallest bottle. "When mixed with alcohol, it causes discomfort, therefore creating a negative stimulus, making it less likely that you'll wanna drink again."
"Okay," he said. "And which one's the one that's gonna give me the shits?"
"Bellamy," Clarke said.
"What? He said that's a side effect."
"They all have side effects," the director said. "Just let me know what you're experiencing. We can always try different meds, different doses. And you won't be taking these forever, but don't just up and quit cold turkey. You have to wean your way off of them."
That reminded Clarke of something she wanted to ask, but she wasn't quite sure how to say it. "Um, should I be the one giving these to him, or . . ."
"They don't have addictive qualities," the director assured, "so he's probably fine to take them on his own. But it's up to you two. Bellamy, if you'd rather she be the one responsible for your medication, that's fine."
"We can talk about that out on the drive home," Bellamy said.
"Yeah." If he wanted to be in charge of his own meds, then she was willing to let him do that, but she was still going to check to see how many pills were left in each bottle every single day, and he would just have to understand that.
"Alright then, you're all set," the director said, reaching across his desk with his hand extended. "Clarke."
"Thank you," she said.
"Bellamy."
"Thank you so much," Bellamy said emphatically, also shaking his hand.
"You just call if you need anything." The director smiled at Avery and said, "And bye to you, too. Bye, Avery."
She just kind of looked at him, probably not sure what to make of this man she didn't recognize or know.
"You know, I heard all about her," the director said.
"Oh, I'm sure you did," Clarke said. Avery definitely had that whole apple-of-his-eye thing going on when it came to her father. She already was and would always be a daddy's girl.
A lot of people came to say goodbye to Bellamy when he left. His popularity knew no bounds apparently, and was not limited to just high school and college. Clarke kind of got a kick out of it. He said goodbye to everyone, of course, hugged a lot of people, thanking the nurses and wishing the other residents well. But she knew he was eager to get out the doors and get on the road.
He definitely would have sat up front with her had it not been or Avery, but since she was there, he sat in the backseat, talking baby talk to her and playing peek-a-boo. Even though their little girl knew better than to fall for it anymore, she still laughed every time he uncovered his face.
Clarke would have loved to just turn around and watch them, but the most she could do was steal a few glances in her rearview mirror as she drove. "Remember when you drove home from the hospital and I rode in the backseat with her?" she reminisced.
"Yeah. And I drove about two miles per hour," he recalled. "That's how fast I'll be driving everywhere from now on, by the way."
"Fine by me." She was definitely going to be nervous the first time he got back behind the wheel, especially the first time he drove somewhere alone. But she was choosing to trust him. Trust had gotten them this far in his recovery.
"Two miles per hour," Bellamy said to Avery. "Can you hold up two fingers like this? One, two."
He sounded like an episode of Sesame Street, but it was so damn adorable. She would have loved to let him just focus on Avery for the entire drive, but there were still a couple things they needed to discuss, too, and he was so wrapped up in spending time with his daughter that she was gonna have to be the one to bring them up. "So," she said, "your meds?"
"Oh, yeah. I think maybe . . . you should be the one to give them to me," he said. "Just for the first week."
"Okay." She was more than willing to do that.
"Just in case," he added.
"No problem." Maybe while she was at it, she'd pop a daily birth control pill herself, too. "Oh, they said your car should be done by the end of the week, by the way," she informed him. "We'll have to see what you need to do to get your license back."
"I probably have to go take some class," he said.
"Probably. But we'll think about that tomorrow."
"Yeah," he said. "Right now I just wanna spend time with you guys."
That was exactly what she wanted, too. There were other things that could wait. Like telling him about the school board meeting. Even though it'd gone in their favor, no way was she dumping that on him today.
Walking in the front door with Bellamy was everything Clarke had hoped it would be. That look on his face was just as perfectly content as she'd imagined it would be, and that feeling of wholeness just washed right over her again. "Home sweet home," she said, dropping the lighter of his two bags down by the bottom of the stairs.
"Oh, you have no idea how good it feels to be back," he said, flinging his other bag down by the couch. Still holding Avery, who now looked like she was struggling to stay awake, he walked around the living room, just looking around and taking it all in. "Everything looks the same," he said.
"Everything is," she assured him. "Oh, except I bought you some workout stuff. And the paint in the bathroom is a slightly different shade of white."
"Ooh," he said, grinning. He walked over to the bathroom, flipped on the light, and peeked inside, nodding in approval.
"It doesn't look any different, does it?" she guessed.
"No, it kind of does," he said, switching the light back off. "You did a good job."
"Well, I had to keep busy."
Bellamy made his way over to the back siding door and windows, gazing outside longingly. "Wow," he said. "I missed that view."
The ocean was definitely relaxing. Clarke wondered if he might want to go out there today. They probably couldn't bring Avery out, though. It was a little too chilly and windy.
"I missed our bed," he said. "I missed our couch." He looked down at the couch, wrinkled his forehead as though he were thinking about something, then told her, "I can sleep down here if that's what you want."
It was a considerate offer, but he wasn't a guest, and there was no reason they couldn't share their bed again. "That's not what I want," she said. "Go ahead and get comfy for now, though. Log some snuggle time. I'll go start unpacking some of your stuff."
"Are you sure?" he said. "I can do that."
"Bellamy. Just cuddle with your daughter," she told him. "I know that's all you wanna do."
He smiled, didn't deny that, and sat down on the couch with Avery while Clarke headed upstairs with his lightweight bag. He must have brought home some things he hadn't taken with him, more than just his coloring pages, because it felt a little heavier than it had when she'd first packed it up for him.
She set his bag on the bed, unzipped it, and started taking out the photos first. Laying them all out on the bed, she wondered how much time he'd spent looking at those pictures in rehab. Had to be hours.
The next thing she pulled out of his bag was something she didn't recognize, at least not something she recognized as Bellamy's. It was one of those black composition notebooks that every student ended up using at some time or another. Clarke wondered if he'd used it during some of his art therapy sessions, so she opened it up to the first page, expecting to see another cute stick figure drawing. But instead, she saw writing. A full paragraph in Bellamy's messy, all-caps handwriting. She read the first line and could tell right away that it was personal, so she shut the notebook, figuring she should bring it downstairs to him so he could decide what he wanted to do with it.
"Hey, I found this in your stuff," she said, handing it over to him.
"Oh, yeah, my therapist had me journal every night," he said.
She nodded, understanding how that could have been therapeutic. "Don't worry, I didn't read it," she assured him.
"You can," he told her.
"But . . . isn't it private?" She'd kept a journal in junior high and had always been petrified that one of her parents would read it.
"No," he said. "In fact, I want you to know what's in there. It's my birthday present to you." He moved his legs off the couch, making room for her. "Here, sit down," he said. "I'll read you what I wrote the first night I had this."
Clarke . . . felt unsure. She was in such good spirits today, but it was very possible that Bellamy's writing might make her feel sad. It probably got pretty emotional at times. But if he wanted to share it with her, then she wanted to listen, so she sat down, waiting.
With Avery in one arm, curled up against his chest now, and his notebook in his other hand, he flipped open to the first page, the same one Clark had just gotten a peek at. And then he started reading: "My wife is a pretty amazing woman. After everything I've put her through, I wouldn't have blamed her if she just left me. But she didn't."
I'm not going to, she thought, hoping he could sense that. She was in this for the long haul with him.
"I left her once to go play a game," he read on, "to throw a ball around a field and try to make it big. But I know now that that was never the life I was meant to have. I was meant to have a life with her, with Clarke. We were meant to have a family."
She looked down at sleepy little Avery and smiled.
"Everyone knows she's my best friend and my soulmate, but now, she's something else to me, too." He waited for a moment, just staring at the page, then finished up with, "My wife is my hero. She saved my life."
Clarke's lips trembled, and her eyes teared up as he closed his journal and set it aside. Hero? she thought, blown away. Oh my god. He may have written that in rehab, but it was the most beautiful, touching thing she'd heard from him since his wedding vows.