Chapter 121
The adoption process was sort of a tedious one. Worth it, of course, but tedious. There were so many different documents that needed to be filled out. Just when Bellamy thought they were done, Pike produced another, and it essentially asked for all the same information. For instance, they started with something called a Family Court Cover Sheet, which was pretty basic. It just asked for some information about him, Clarke, Avery, and Finn. Pike said that was what they would use to open the case. But the next thing, the actual petition to adopt, went more in depth. Both he and Clarke had to fill that out. At least they didn't have to bother with the name change section, though, since Avery's last name was already Blake.
Bellamy's mind felt like it was melting that night when he and Clarke were finally able to go to bed. He couldn't stop yawning, and even pulling back the covers felt like it took a tremendous deal of effort.
Clarke yawned, too, and said, "I'm exhausted."
"I know," he said. "So much paperwork."
"So much," she agreed, arranging her pillows the way she liked them. "And all that legal jargon. Why can't they just write things normally, in ways that ordinary people can understand?"
"Thank God we have Pike," Bellamy said. "He's like our translator."
"Yeah," she said, lying down. "It feels good to finally be filling out papers, though."
"Oh, yeah, I'm excited." He lay down next to her, extended his arm, and told her, "Come here." Tired as he was, he wanted to at least cuddle with her.
"Mmm," she moaned contentedly, snuggling up next to him. They kissed, neither one of them with the energy necessary to do anything beyond kissing, and then she lay her head down on his chest and put her hand over his heart.
"Thank you, Clarke," he said, placing his hand atop hers.
"You're welcome?" she said confusedly, laughing a little. "Are you thanking me for a kiss?"
"No. Not that I'm not grateful for that, too," he said, letting his eyes fall shut as the need to sleep started to overtake him quickly. "Thanks for letting me be Avery's dad."
...
It was probably a blessing in disguise that the football season had ended early. Bellamy would have had to miss out on a lot of afternoon practices, because that was when Pike was able to meet with them. The first meeting had been to discuss what Finn had said. The second meeting had been to start the paperwork. The third meeting was to continue the paperwork, and Bellamy fully anticipated that there would be more meetings to come. Clarke had to postpone one of the Rusty Kuntz—that still made him laugh—band practices to make the next meeting time with Pike work, but luckily, all the kids' parents were understanding about it.
"So what papers do we need to fill out today?" he asked Pike, already anticipating the early onset of arthritis at this point.
"Wait, before we get to that," Clarke said, "are we gonna have to do a home visit thing? I heard that can be mandatory in some states."
"No," Pike replied. "Avery already lives with you, and you're her biological mother. I don't anticipate that at all."
As if she was trying to say something, Avery stared making lots of babbling noises from atop Clarke's lap. Bellamy listened closely, as he always did, trying to decipher anything specific. 'Mama' had to be coming soon.
"Sorry," Clarke apologized, "she's a little bit of a chatterbox lately."
"So were my kids at that age," Pike recalled. "Now they barely talk to me."
"And how old are they again?" Bellamy asked him.
"Thirteen and ten."
He looked at Clarke, figuring they had a few more years of relative agreeability then before Avery became too cool for them.
"Great," she said. "So we have that to look forward to."
"Has she said any words yet?" Pike inquired.
"Just one. Here, I'll show you," Bellamy said excitedly. "Avery. Avery." He clapped his hands to get her attention. She was very distracted by being in this unfamiliar environment at Pike's office, but once he had her attention, she stopped looking around at anything else. "Who am I? Who am I?" he asked her. "What's my name?"
She smiled, then squealed, "Da-da!"
Bellamy held his hands up proudly. Reliable as clockwork. She had that down.
"Now that's a little girl who wants to be adopted," Pike said, smiling at her. "And guess what, Avery? You're gonna get your wish."
"Yep, 'cause we're gonna fill out papers 'til our hands are mangled," Bellamy said, stretching out his fingers. "All for you, Princess."
"Actually," Pike said, "we got the majority of that done at our last meeting. I don't need you to fill anything out today."
"Oh, thank God," Clarke said dramatically.
"I did receive something I think you'll both wanna have a look at, though." Pike opened up the folder in front of him, took out a piece of paper, and handed it over to Clarke.
"Oh, no," she said. "This doesn't sound good." She held it so that Bellamy could get a look at it, too, but it always took his eyes a few seconds to adjust to the words in front of them. It didn't help when there were a lot of words on the page. All this adoption paperwork was just packed full of things to read.
"Wait a minute," Clarke said. "Is this what I think it is?"
Bellamy was definitely seeing some words that interested him, words that he'd longed to see on a legal document for months now. "Hey, I'm dyslexic," he reminded them. "What is this thing?" He didn't want to get his hopes up, but . . .
"You know what it is," Pike said, a satisfied grin on his face.
Clarke's hands started to flutter as she held the paper. "Bellamy," she said. "He signed over his rights."
With similar shaking hands, he took the paper from her, looking down in disbelief. It was a front/back thing. And on the back of it was a signature. Finn Collins. Right there. "Is this real?" he asked.
"Yes," Pike confirmed. "His lawyer dropped it off this morning."
Holy shit, he thought, looking it over some more. It said 'Waiver of Rights' at the top in a font that was bigger than the rest. And on the back was a bolded sentence that said 'I understand that this consent cannot be revoked or nullified.' Right above Finn's signature. He'd signed a paper giving consent, and he couldn't take back that consent once Bellamy adopted her. He couldn't change his mind several years down the road and decide that he wanted to make a different decision. This was the decision. He was holding it in his hands. "So . . . so we have what we need now?" he said, feeling like he could leap for joy. "Nothing's in the way?"
"Nothing's in the way," Pike said.
"Oh my god, Bellamy," Clarke gasped, looking like she might also wanna leap. "So, um . . . oh my god, what do we do next?"
"Yeah, we wanna keep going as fast as possible with everything," Bellamy added. Full steam ahead and all that.
"So do I," Pike said. "Now that we've got the ball rolling, we're not letting go of the momentum. I'm gonna set up the court date. Is there any date that won't work?"
"No," Bellamy said. "As soon as possible."
"Yeah, we'll literally make any date work," Clarke promised.
"Great. You'll have copies of all the paperwork, but I can handle the filing." Pike told them. "It'll probably cost about two-fifty."
"Jesus Christ," Bellamy swore, "why does everything cost so much money?" He thought it was kind of crap that he had to pay money to adopt a little girl whose current only word was Da-da, but then again, he'd expected it.
"Well, she's priceless, so we'll find a way to pay it," Clarke said, giving him a look to insinuate that they might once again be asking her mom or dad for help. He was keeping a mental tally of the debt that he'd have to repay, though, so he had no problem just adding to it at this point.
"So what do we need to do?" he asked Pike, willing to take home some . . . homework. Even though he'd hardly done any of that in high school.
"Right now?" Pike said. "Nothing. Just go home and celebrate."
Bellamy exchanged a look with his wife, smiling excitedly. That was his kind of homework right there.
...
Even though it was a last-minute thing, almost everyone was able to show up for the party at Bellamy and Clarke's house that night. Aurora wasn't able to be there because she had to work, and obviously Jake and Alyssa couldn't just drop everything to drive down there, but Clarke did call her dad to update him on how things were going. Her mom and Kane were the first ones to show up, followed by Raven and Murphy. Octavia and Lincoln, Harper and Monty, Jasper, Miller . . . everyone was there, and everyone was really excited to hear the good news. Clarke lost track of the number of times she heard the word congratulations, but hey, it was a congratulatory thing. It reminded her of when she'd first told people she was pregnant, or when they'd come in the hospital room and first seen Avery after she was born. So many congrats, each one of them very heartfelt.
About an hour into the festivities, Murphy stood up on one of the kitchen table chairs and clanged a spoon against his glass. "Hey, everybody, shut up for a minute!" he yelled.
"What're you doing, Murphy?" Raven said. "Don't embarrass me."
"I'm making a toast," he announced. "Water toast."
Bellamy held up his glass. Everyone was drinking water or soda, and they were all still having a great time.
Murphy cleared his throat as if he were about to make some grand speech, but of course he didn't, because he was Murphy. "Congrats to Avery's parents. The ones who've been her parents all along," he said. "You guys are doin' this, and we all kinda . . . love you and support you and shit. Congrats."
"Aww," Clarke said, "that was almost wholesome."
"Yeah, I'll take it," Bellamy said. "Thanks, man."
"Cheers," Murphy said, and everyone toasted and drank. He nearly fell as he tried to get down from the chair, and Clarke had to laugh. Typical Murphy, always trying to be cool, never quite succeeding.
"Clarke!"
She turned around when she heard someone call out to her quietly. Octavia was standing on the stairs, vehemently motioning her over. Clarke hadn't even noticed her leave the living room. She was sneaky like a ninja.
With Bellamy talking to the guys, Clarke headed over to the stairs and said, "Hey, what's up?"
Octavia gestured for Clarke to follow her as she scampered up the steps. Confused, Clarke left the party and went along with her sister-in-law, not exactly sure what was going on. Octavia kind of liked attention, so it wasn't like her to not be in the middle of every conversation at a party.
"What's going on?" Clarke asked her once they were away from everything and everyone else.
It was a good thing Clarke had a good grip on the glass in her hand, because if she hadn't, she probably would have dropped it when Octavia blurted out, "I think I might be pregnant."
...
Getting back into the swing of things at the start of a new semester was always hard. Even though Clarke was, by all definitions, a good student, it wasn't like she enjoyed having to wake up early just to go take notes in a lecture-style class where the professor would never know her name. It was especially hard on days when she wasn't feeling the greatest.
What did I eat last night? she wondered, clutching her stomach as she tried to go about her morning routine. Her mom had made that seafood lasagna stuff again. Next time, she was going to tell her to just make regular lasagna instead, because seafood didn't always settle in her stomach just the best.
She tried her best to ignore the slight feeling of nausea as she fixed her hair and put some makeup on. It was really easy to get panicked with that feeling of deja vu, but . . . seafood. It was a lot for the body to handle sometimes. She didn't feel like she had to throw up or anything. Not really. Although . . .
She clutched at her stomach as a weird feeling started to come over her. You're not gonna puke, she told herself. Mind over matter. The more she thought about it, the sicker she would make herself feel. Once she got to class, she'd get her mind on other things, and this feeling would pass. She'd go about her day on campus, come home and study, and tomorrow morning, she'd feel better.
Running a bit late, Clarke ended up abandoning all plans for her hair and just threw it up in a messy ponytail. She put on some shoes and clothes that would allow her to run if she needed to, because if she couldn't find a decent parking space, she was definitely going to end up having to run to get to class on time.
Hurrying down the stairs, she stopped in the kitchen just to grab an apple or something else that would constitute a breakfast. All the apples she had looked kind of gross, though, and that coupled with her topsy-turvy stomach just didn't seem like a good combination; so she opened up the fridge and took out a water bottle instead. It wasn't food, but it would do.
When she shut the fridge, she came face to face with her calendar, which she'd neglected to switch to September yesterday. Even though she didn't really have the time, she switched it quickly, then started towards the door. But after only a few seconds, she stopped. Turned back.
Class started in fifteen minutes. It would take her half that time to get to campus, probably another three minutes to find a place to park. It was an embarrassing class to show up late to, because the professor was kind of a douche and liked to say things like, "So nice of you to join us," and "Glad the hangover didn't stop you from showing up today," whenever anyone walked in after it had started. She didn't want to be ridiculed, so she knew she should just go. But she had to check something first.
Walking back towards the calendar on her refrigerator, she flipped back to August, noting where she'd put the giant red dot. That was her code for her period. It just made sense to keep track of that. Obviously.
That red dot was a month ago. A little over a month ago, actually. Not by much, just two days, but still . . . it was a month and two days ago. It was time to be putting a red dot on September now. She was ready.
The urge to freak out was strong. But this wasn't the first time something like this had happened. Last year, she'd been just one day late and had ended up on her bathroom floor sobbing, only to wake up with red gross stains all over her sheets the next morning. She'd worked herself into a frenzy for nothing, and she didn't want to do that again. It was only two days. Hormones did all sorts of weird things to the body, so it probably wasn't cause for alarm.
Still . . . her stomach churned again, almost as if it were trying to make her more concerned than she actually needed to be. Maybe that was just because she was nervous, though. Hell, maybe she'd woken up feeling kind of sick-ish because she was about to get her period.
Don't worry, she told herself, trying to stay calm. The chances of anything actually being wrong were slim to none. The only person she'd even slept with this past month was Finn, just that one night, and . . . well, he hadn't worn a condom, but at least he'd pulled out. And she got the birth control shot these days, which was way more effective than the pill, so . . .
Don't worry, she thought again, trying not to dwell on the fact that she still hadn't gotten her next dose of the shot. The timing just hadn't worked out with school starting back up again. She'd gotten busy from July onward doing a little bit of summer classwork to get a jumpstart on the semester.
Don't worry. It took all her mental coaching to try to push the tidal wave of thoughts out of her mind. She hurried out the door, determined to get to class on time, to take notes like the good student she was, and to not spend the rest of her day thinking about this. Don't worry, she just kept thinking to herself. Everything's fine.
...
Clarke immediately felt for Octavia. The uncertainty and fear that often accompanied such a suspicion was a lot to handle. Obviously she knew that first-hand. Even though she hadn't told anyone herself before she knew for certain, if she had, she would have wanted the person she told to be as calming as possible, so instead of letting her eyes get big or saying things like, 'Oh my god, no way,' she nodded slowly and spoke quietly, hoping that would be soothing somehow. "Okay. What makes you think that?" she asked. "Have you missed your period?"
"Not yet, but I've been feeling kind of sick these past couple days," Octavia said. "Like sick to my stomach."
Again, Clarke just nodded, not about to reveal that, both times, morning sickness had been one of her earliest indicators, too. "Do you and Lincoln use protection?" she asked.
"Yeah, I'm on the pill. But Lincoln doesn't always . . ." Octavia trailed off.
"Oh." That sounded familiar, too. Sometimes it was really easy to get going and just . . . forget. Having to stop so the guy could put on a condom broke up the flow of things and sometimes seemed like more of a hassle than it was worth. But looking back, she doubted she would have gotten pregnant at all if Bellamy and Finn had just . . .
"You were on birth control both times you got pregnant, weren't you?" Octavia asked.
"I was on the pill the first time," Clarke said. "The second time, I was getting the shot, but I forgot to get it, which was so stupid." If anyone should have been extra careful about contraception, it should have been her.
"See? I could be pregnant." Octavia, normally quite the tough chick, looked close to tears.
"You could be," Clarke acknowledged. Hell, any girl who was out there having sex with men could be. "But you might not be. If you're having concerns, though, you should find out."
"Yeah," Octavia agreed. "I bought a test. I just took it in your bathroom."
"In my bathroom?" Clarke whisper-shrieked. This was all happening here?
"Yeah, but I can't bring myself to look at it now."
Clarke remembered that dread so well. Her heart really went out to Octavia, but the good news was, she at least had a boyfriend who loved her and just happened to be hanging out downstairs. "Maybe you should go get Lincoln," she suggested.
Octavia shook her head adamantly. "No, no, I can't. I'm too nervous. Will you look at it for me?"
"Oh, god." Clarke had been worried she would ask her to do that. It made sense, though, that her sister-in-law would come to her. In fact, someday down the road, when Raven or Harper went through this same thing, if they needed a girl to do this with instead of Murphy and Monty, they were probably going to come to her, too.
"Come on," Octavia said, grabbing her hand. She pulled Clarke through the bedroom, into the very same bathroom where Clarke had taken her second pregnancy test. And where she'd gotten her second pregnancy positive. There lay the strip right there on the counter, turned over so the result window wasn't on display. She remembered sitting in there waiting for her own result, agonizing over it while Bellamy had been asleep right out there in the bedroom.
"It's one of those line ones," Octavia told her. "One line means negative, two means . . ."
"Positive," Clarke filled in. "Yeah, I remember." That seemed to be the most standard type of home test these days. She'd seen a couple that did sad face/happy face indicators, but those just seemed kind of stupid. Not all pregnancies were happy face things. "Are you sure you want me to do this?" she asked. "I mean, you do realize that both times I've looked at these, they've been positive, right?"
"Yeah, I know," Octavia said. "I just can't do it myself. And I don't wanna tell Lincoln yet. And Bellamy . . . oh, god, forget about it. So it has to be you, Clarke. Please. You're a pro."
Even though she really didn't want to do it, Clarke couldn't let her sister-in-law do this on her own. She knew what it was like to look at that result all by yourself, to feel the world closing in on you when you found out you hadn't been careful enough and that your whole life had just changed. "Okay," she said. "I'll do it." She picked up the test, waiting a few seconds to see if Octavia changed her mind. She didn't. She did squeeze her eyes shut, though, and cross her fingers.
Just because of her own track record, Clarke anticipated two pink lines as she flipped that test over. But in a nice change of things, she only saw one. Not even the faintest hint of another. Just one solid pink line, and then nothing else. "You're not pregnant," she revealed.
Octavia's eyes snapped open. "I'm not?" Her fingers remained crossed, however, until Clarke showed her the results window. "Oh, thank God," she said, breathing multiple sighs of relief. "No offense to babies or anything. Yours is adorable, and I'm sure Lincoln and I would create, like, a designer kid. But I see everything you guys have to do, and even after babysitting, I'm wiped out."
"Relax," Clarke said, handing the test over. "You're not pregnant. Life-altering event averted."
"Thank God," Octavia repeated exaggeratedly.
"You probably just have a stomach bug." Not every nausea was related to pregnancy. Although once you were pregnant, it sort of became a natural thing you thought about anytime you had to throw up.
"I feel so much better now," Octavia said, clutching the strip to her chest as though she cherished it.
"You know, the pill actually isn't as reliable as some other types of birth control," Clarke told her.
"What're you doing right now?" Octavia asked her.
"Well . . . the pill," she admitted. "But that's 'cause I'm married. You might wanna switch it up. Try an implant or something. Plus, condoms . . ."
Octavia made a face. "I like sex without 'em."
"I know. Trust me. Your brother without a condom . . ."
"Oh god, Clarke, no."
"I'm just saying." She decided to spare her the details, but . . . she definitely understood. The natural feel of the guy you loved was so fucking erotic. "Hey, you need to tell Lincoln, though, that you had a little scare and you wanna take more precautions," she advised.
"You think?"
"Yeah. He'd wanna know, and he'll understand."
"Okay," Octavia said, looking down at the results window one more time, as if she wanted to make sure they weren't just seeing things. "Thanks, sis," she said, giving Clarke a hug.
"No problem." She was just glad that, for Octavia's sake, she broke her streak and looked at a negative result for once. Something new and different.
...
Finishing up on his meticulous beard trimming, Bellamy turned his head from side to side, then tilted it back to examine himself at all angles. Looked pretty good. Maybe he'd been a barber in a former life.
"Bellamy, come to bed!" Clarke called. "Or I'm gonna start without you."
"Just let me brush my teeth," he said. "I'm almost done."
"Hurry!" she yelled. "I'm horny!"
Well, that definitely inspired him to pick up the pace, so he squirted some toothpaste on his brush, shoved it into his mouth, and started brushing feverishly. Had to have that minty fresh breath when he went down on her tonight.
While he was brushing his teeth, he started to wonder if he might walk out of that bathroom and find her squirming around beneath the covers, or maybe even on top of the covers with her hand between her legs. He liked the thought of that. In fact, if she did start without him, he wasn't opposed to just standing back and watching for a bit. Clarke knew how to put on a good show for him, and if she wanted, he'd even give her something to watch in return.
Unfortunately, his perverted thoughts stopped abruptly when he caught sight of something in the tiny trashcan next to the sink. He wasn't an expert on pregnancy tests by any means, but that definitely looked like one. He spit out his toothpaste, rinsed off his toothbrush, and then bent down to lift the test up out of the trash. It just had one line on it, which apparently corresponded to not pregnant, so . . .
He walked out of the bathroom with the test in hand, confused as to why his wife would take that without him this time. "Uh, Clarke?" He held it up, needing answers.
She was in the middle of getting undressed, but she stopped before taking her bra off and said, "Oh. No. That's not mine."
"It's not?"
"No."
That made no sense. It was their bathroom. And everyone at the party had used the downstairs one, he was pretty sure. "Then whose is it?" he asked.
She hesitated for a few seconds, cringing. "Octavia's."
"What?" He dropped the strip like it had bacteria on it and shrieked, "O peed on this? Shit!"
"Well, at least she's not pregnant," Clarke pointed out.
"When did she think she was?"
"Tonight."
"To—tonight?" he stammered. "She took the test here?"
"Well, that's why it's in our trash can." Clarke sat down on the side of the bed, laughing as she shook her head. "God, you guys are so related. She was freaking out, too. Not that I blame her."
He left the test on the floor, happy to never touch that again and let her dispose of it, and walked over to sit down beside her. "Why didn't she tell me?" he wondered.
"Because you're a guy. Because you're her brother. Because she knew you'd freak out like this. All of the above," Clarke answered. "She only told me because . . . well, apparently I'm the expert."
He supposed that made sense. Of course Octavia wasn't going to take the test with him. Even though they were close, that was just weird. She'd probably assumed that Clarke would be more of a calming, assuring presence, and undoubtedly, she had been. "Not that I don't wanna be an uncle someday, 'cause I do," he said, "but she's too young to have a kid, and as I'm saying that, I realize how hypocritical it sounds."
"We were younger than her," Clarke said. "Crazy, huh?"
"Yep." Sometimes he forgot that his little sister wasn't so little anymore. "What'd you say to her?" he asked.
"I told her to make Lincoln wear a condom. And to look into something other than the pill," she replied. "I think I did a good job, Bellamy. It was like having 'the talk,' but like a less intimidating version of it."
"The talk." He remembered his mom's attempt at that with him. Bless her heart, she'd given him the facts, but he'd already seen a lot online. "I hate to say it, but it's probably good practice."
"I know." She grimaced. "Ugh, that's gonna be awful when we have to give the talk to Avery. Can't she just stay a little innocent baby forever? I don't know about you, but I've already had nightmares about it."
"Me, too," he said. "But you're a girl, so you'll have to do it."
"Why do I have to . . ." She trailed off, thought about it a moment, and then seemed to decide that that was a good idea. "Fine, I'll talk to her, but when we have a son, that's on you, buddy. You're giving the talk to him."
He had no problem with that. "Fine. Boys are easy. You just tell 'em to rubber up every single time." Again, he realized the hypocrisy behind his words, so he mumbled, "Which I did not do."
"Right, which is exactly why you will be a lot more detailed and educational than that," she said. It wasn't even phrased as a suggestion. More like an order.
"What, am I supposed to have diagrams or something? 3D models?" he joked.
"Well, I don't want him learning about everything by looking at porn sites in the eighth grade!"
"Actually, I started in sixth grade," he informed her.
"Oh, this just gets better and better doesn't it?"
"But that's why I'm so skilled. Come on, we've been through this." He put his arm around his shoulder, teasing, "What do we say?"
She rolled her eyes. "Thank you, Pornhub. But no, seriously, no matter how awkward it is, we're gonna educate that boy. Mama's put her foot down here."
"Oh." She was so cute right now. "Okay, then." If this was any indication that she was going to be the one to take charge in bed tonight, he was okay with that. It was cool to switch things up once in a while.
"I love that we're having this whole conversation about a kid who doesn't even exist yet," she said.
"Yet." He liked the sound of that. A lot. Leaning in, he kissed her, hoping they would have a son someday. As long as their kids were happy and healthy both in and out of the womb, then that was the only real thing that mattered, but if Avery could have a brother, and if he had the chance to give someone the father-son relationship he'd never had . . .
When Clarke pulled away from the kiss, she'd gotten serious. "I'm sorry I'm still not ready to . . . you know," she said apologetically.
"No, it's fine. I'm okay with someday." He wasn't about to put any pressure on her to get pregnant again. The had a big supply of condoms in the drawer, and when they ran out of those, he'd go get some more. No big deal. "Whenever you're ready to try," he said, tucking her hair behind her ear, "I will be, too."
She smiled at him sweetly, and he smiled back at her, looking forward to their someday. Whenever that day happened to be.