Title: A Dream Life
Author: Andrea (CarbyLove@aol.com)
Rating: R
Summary: Previously in this fic: Carter came home, Abby wanted a baby, sex sex sex, Abby freaked out, she and Carter talked about her fears, yadda yadda yadda. This time? Well, you just have to read it to find out.
Author's Note: See? I told you this one would be up fast. It might have been up faster, but *someone* had to write a term paper or something. But thanks for the interactive editing, anyway, Cath. So yeah, chapter 7 is already started … so hopefully that one will be up soon too.
~~~~~
A Dream Life
Chapter 6: Change of Heart
"You look exhausted." Well that makes sense, I feel exhausted. I didn't know it was showing so obviously though. I slam my locker shut, and turn to talk to her before heading for home.
"Thanks, Susan. You look especially bedraggled yourself." She just laughs.
"I'm serious. You look like you haven't slept in a month."
"Ugh. I feel like I haven't slept in a month." She gives me a wicked little grin. "What?" I ask her.
"Nothing. I guess Abby's just been keeping you up all night, huh? Those baby-making duties are tough, huh? But if you think this is bad, wait until you actually manage to get her pregnant."
"Well, I don't think that's gonna happen for a while."
"Oh, come on, don't get discouraged. You've been trying all of what? A month? These things take time."
"That's not what I mean. Abby didn't tell you?"
"Tell me what? Oh my God, she's not pregnant already is she? But you just said --"
"Ha. Not hardly. No, it seems Abby had a little change of heart."
"About having a baby?"
"Yeah, she decided that maybe we weren't ready. That she needed some time."
"When did this happen? I mean, she seemed excited about it when she told me you guys were trying." Susan's face is full of concern.
"A couple weeks ago. Pretty much right away. No sooner had we started trying than she just went berserk, and decided it was all a bad idea. At least for right now."
"Oh God, Carter. I'm sorry. You must be disappointed."
"Yeah. I can handle the waiting. I'm not happy about it, but if she's not ready, I don't want to push her into anything. But what I really hate is what's happened to Abby and I in the meantime."
Susan just gives me a questioning look.
"Things have just been … weird. Strained, maybe. It's like we're living two completely separate lives under the same roof. It seems like we barely speak to each other. Working different shifts lately hasn't really helped, but even when we are together, it's like we don't know where to start. I don't know …"
I trail off, because I'm not really sure how to describe the breach between Abby and I these past couple of weeks. It's not that I'm mad at her. I guess I'm just disappointed. At first, I was probably the one keeping my distance from her a little bit. But now I think I'm starting to accept that it might be a long wait before start trying for a baby again, and maybe that's for the best. So I'm not really harboring any resentment about it. I'd rather wait and have it be the right time than pressure Abby into something she's not sure she's ready for. But by now, I think Abby's convinced that I am disappointed in her and probably back to thinking that I should, and probably do, hate her. Nothing could be farther from the truth, but try convincing her of that.
"Well, don't worry too much. I'm sure you guys will work it out. You always do. And in the meantime … you know, sometimes accidents happen." She winks at me, making sure I know she's joking.
"Well, these days it would require an immaculate conception." Considering the fact that some days we are barely speaking, intimacy has been nonexistent. Unlike in that brief time when we were trying to get pregnant, and I couldn't keep my hands off her, I'm not really interested these days. It might have something to do with the fact that every time I catch sight of that box of condoms, I find myself cringing. A reminder of what might have been. But now, I fear, might never happen.
"Oh. Sorry."
"Yeah. Thanks, I--"
"Susan? You ready?" At that moment, Luka opens the door to the lounge and sticks his head in. Obviously anxious to collect Susan for … a date maybe?
"Yeah, I'll be right there." Luka nods and shuts the door, apparently waiting for her in the hallway.
"So Susan … what's this? A date?"
"Dinner."
"Sounds like a date to me."
"I'll let you know." She calls as she heads out the door. Whatever that means. Ah, but a little bit of gossip is always fun. Abby should enjoy hearing this. Assuming she hasn't constructed some way to avoid me all night. Her shift ended early in the afternoon, and she's been home for hours. Plenty of time to have undertaken some very important project like cleaning out the closet or the fridge or the medicine cabinet. All jobs that apparently require her undivided attention all night long.
By the time I get home, I've decided that it's time for us to start talking to each other again. So whatever task she's in the middle of tonight, it's just going to have to wait. I know I might not have been exactly affectionate in those first couple days after Abby's change of heart, but if she's punishing me for that now, I think it's time to stop. It's been more than three weeks of polite but shallow conversation and heavy silences and sleeping with our backs turned to each other. I've had to give up fatherhood, at least for the moment, but I'm not giving my marriage too. I miss her. I don't want to lose her over this.
I open the door fully expecting to hear the sound of vacuum cleaner blaring. Or to find Abby rearranging the kitchen cabinets. Instead it's dark and quiet. The windows are providing the only light in the room, but with the daylight fading, the room in bathed in shadows. It doesn't look like Abby's home. But there's no note on the table or stuck to the fridge. I feel a vague stirring of worry, but I brush it off as I head into the bedroom and then beyond to the bathroom. It's only in the glow of the bathroom light as I return to the bedroom, that I spot a familiar shape. Abby, stretched out on the bed, under the covers. To all appearances sound asleep. And here it is not even 8 p.m.
I strip down to my boxers and t-shirt and carefully ease down on to the bed. I slip under the covers and prop myself up on my elbow. She's so beautiful when she's asleep. She's beautiful all the time, really, but especially when she's sleeping with a relaxed little smile on her face. Like right now. All the tension and worry gone. I reach out and smooth back her hair softly. Oh, Abby. I just wish she could see herself the way I see her. She's so perfect, and she has no idea. And when I see her like this, so vulnerable, so fragile, I just want to protect her. And, as always, I want to make her happy. God, I love her. No matter what. Anything I have to give up, she's worth it. And whatever it takes, I want to fix this breach between us.
I lean over and kiss her lightly on her soft lips. She doesn't even stir. For a brief moment, I'm reminded of the last time I found her so deeply asleep like this. Passed out in a drunken stupor. But I don't think she'd do that again so I push that thought away. But then I'm worried that maybe she's sick. I lay my hand on her forehead to make sure she doesn't have a fever, and find her head nice and cool. At the touch of my hand to her face, her eyelids flutter open. It takes a moment for her eyes to focus, but then she give me a big, if sleepy, smile.
"Hi," she says in a voice still heavy with sleep.
"Hi."
I'm about to apologize for waking her from her nap when she rolls over and curls up against my chest, her eyes closing again as she immediately goes back to sleep. I lie back against the pillow making myself more comfortable. As I move, she moves with me. I've rolled from my side onto my back, and now Abby is sprawled on top of me, my chest her pillow, her arms wrapped around me. Apparently I'm more comfortable to lie on than the actual mattress or pillows. It's only a little hard to breathe, but it's been so long since we've had this kind physical closeness, I don't really care. Oxygen -- who needs it? I wrap my arms tightly around her. I've missed this. Just holding her in my arms like this.
I'm a little surprised that the wall that's been between us these past few weeks seems to have suddenly crumbled. But that may be just a function of having caught her with her defenses down. All sleepy and vulnerable and not thinking straight probably. I better enjoy this while I can, who knows what will happen when she wakes and starts thinking clearly? Of course, as Susan noticed, and then pointed out so subtly in the lounge, the tension in this place is starting to take it's toll. And lying here with my arms around her, I feel relaxed for the first time since the night I got back from Guatemala. I feel her peaceful breathing, steady against my chest. And as much as I want to stay awake and enjoy this, I feel my eyes getting heavy …
My eyes open slowly and I find her lying on the pillow next to mine, just looking at me, a bemused smile on her face.
"I was wondering when you were going to wake up." She says with a bigger smile spreading across her face as she stretches, arms over her head, pointed toes beneath the sheet. "Hmm." She sighs contentedly before slipping her arms over my head and resting her head on my shoulder, using me as her pillow again. Well now, this is definitely odd behavior. Okay, who is this and where's my wife?
"You feeling okay, Ab?"
"Sure. Why wouldn't I be?" She sounds almost alarmed.
"No reason. It's just … well, we haven't exactly been dripping with affection these past couple of weeks. But here you are, all wrapped around me."
"Oh, is that all?" She sounds kind of relieved. "But if it bothers you, I can go in the other room."
"Don't even think about it. Stay right here."
"Good. Because I'd hate to think that I can't even hug my own husband." I slip my arms around her waist, hugging her back. And I realize that I missed one very salient fact earlier. I peek under the sheet, and sure enough, she's wearing nothing but her birthday suit. She doesn't normally sleep in the buff, so I give her questioning look.
"Oh." She says, following my eyes. "Yeah. I took a bath when I got home from work. And I was going to put on some clothes and make some dinner. But I was so tired, and the bed was calling my name, so I just kinda crashed"
"Mm-hmm." I lean over and find a spot on her neck to kiss. I move my lips lightly down to her shoulder. She tilts her head to the side automatically, and her hands are suddenly at the back of my head, running through my hair. Did I say I wasn't interested in this lately? I guess that's all changed. Maybe it has something to do with finding her naked in our bed. Maybe it's that for once she made overtures at me. But whatever it is, suddenly I don't care if this is going to be purely recreational. I don't even mind the thought of the box of condoms in the bedside table. I roll her over onto her back and lift my head from her neck, searching for her lips. It's a long, slow kiss. A welcome comfort. Something else that I didn't realize how much I've missed in this past couple weeks of chaste and perfunctory pecks. My hands slide up from her waist, seeking out her breasts. But I've barely made contact when she pulls her lips from mine, sucking in a sharp breath of air. She pushes my hands away. Gently, but firmly.
"John, wait. We have to talk." Well yeah, I agree. We definitely have to talk. But there's time for that later. Right now, there are other things to attend to. I seek out her lips again. She resists for moment before giving into another deep kiss. After a moment though, she pulls back, putting her hands on either side of my face, holding me there. "We have to talk. There's something I want to tell you. "
"Ugh." I fall back on the pillow. Turn my head to look at her. "This better be important."
"It is." The somber note in her voice alerts me. Sounds like something's up.
"Is something wrong? Is it your mom?"
"No. I just talked to Maggie, she's fine."
"Eric?"
"No. He's … okay."
"Well good. This isn't about something silly is it? You're not gonna just tell me that you burned dinner, are you?"
"I didn't even make dinner."
"Did you put a dent in my Jeep?"
"You had the Jeep today."
"Oh no. You killed the fish."
"We don't have any fish."
"Well not now that you killed them."
"John --"
"The dog ran away?"
"We don't have a dog, either."
"Did you sleep with the milkman again?"
"We don't have a milkman! That must be your other wife you're thinking of."
"Are you pregnant?"
I say it purely as a joke. But, of course, it's a stupid thing to joke about considering how sensitive the subject is these days. I expect her to tense up, to clam up, to get all mad. Or to burst into tears. Instead she's just regarding me carefully, biting her lip a little but not really giving anything away.
"Abby?"
Silence.
"Abby?" She reaches out and takes my hand in hers. Looks at me with a strange expression on her face. A cross between bemusement and worry.
"I'm late."
Late? Late. Late! In the instant that my brain makes the connection, I feel a surge of excitement run through me. A warm, tingling feeling that starts in the pit of my stomach and radiates out. It's strong enough to make me feel a bit light-headed. Oh my God. I feel the smile start to spread across my face as Abby starts speaking again.
"Before you get all excited and start picking out baby names and rushing out to buy a crib, you should know that it's probably just a false alarm."
"Or you're pregnant."
"Yeah. But you know I just stopped taking The Pill last month. My body is probably just screwed up because of it. Irregular periods, skipped periods, no periods for months at a time -- that's not at all uncommon in the first year after stopping The Pill. That could be all it is."
"Or you could be pregnant."
"Yeah."
"So you haven't taken a test yet?"
"No." She lies back against the pillows, looks over at me. I suspect my mouth is still hanging open while I try to absorb this. "I wanted to tell you first. But I didn't want to tell you until I was … significantly late."
"So how late are you?" I do some quick calculations in my head. "A week? A little more than a week?"
"Something like that." I'm heartened by the fact that she doesn't seem especially upset. Of course, I realize that could be because she doesn't really think she's pregnant. And maybe she isn't.
"Do you … feel pregnant?"
She gives me a look. Raises one eyebrow. "What do you mean? Like, is my uterus sending me telepathic signals or something?"
"No, like are you experiencing any symptoms that might indicate that you're pregnant? You know, nausea, vomiting, cravings, insomnia, exhaustion?"
"Swollen ankles, a sore back, and frequent urination? John, if I'm pregnant, I'm like 3 minutes pregnant, I don't think I'd necessarily have every symptom right now."
"Well, do you have any of them? Feeling queasy at all?" I suddenly remember the look on her face as we were eating our eggs this morning. "You were kinda green at breakfast today."
"I think that was just because I was grossed out from watching you put ketchup on your scrambled eggs."
"It never bothered you before."
"It always bothers me."
"Well, it never made you lose your appetite before."
"I don't usually have to smell it."
"It smells good. It smells like an omelet."
"It smells like warm ketchup on eggs …" she shudders at the thought. "You know what? Can we just stop talking about it?"
"Why ? Is it making you sick?" I sound a little too gleeful at the thought. She gives me a dirty look. "Okay, no more food talk. But you know, I did come home and find you sound asleep at 7:30 at night. After a half shift, wasn't it? Any particular reason you're so tired? See? That's two down. First the eg-- you know what. And I'd say falling asleep in middle of the afternoon and sleeping all evening sounds like exhaustion."
"Well, I maybe I just didn't sleep very well last night."
"Insomnia?"
"Shut up." She crosses her arms and gives me another dirty look, but I don't think she's really mad. I can see the beginnings of a smile, under her frosty exterior. She still thinks I'm cute. As I look at her, another thought occurs to me.
"Are your breasts sore?"
"What?"
"Well, before … you know, you sort of pulled away. Thought maybe it's because they're sore." She doesn't answer, just looks at me. "So are they?"
"Maybe. Kinda." My turn to give her the old one-raised-eyebrow look. "Okay! Yeah, they're sore. So what?"
"Swollen?"
"What?"
"Are they swollen?" Before she has a chance to answer, I yank the sheet away.
"Hey, give me my sheet back!" She reaches for it, exposing the objects of inquiry.
"Well, I don't know … I think they look a bit swollen to me."
"Ha. Wishful thinking." I don't know if she means that I'm wishing she's pregnant or wishing her boobs would swell up. Either way, I figure it's best to just ignore that remark.
"I don't know Abby. I think you'd better face it … these sound like pregnancy symptoms to me. If you were a patient … Exhaustion, queasiness, sore breasts … moodiness." She tosses me another look, but doesn't say anything. "Sounds like 'pregnant' to me."
"Or PMS."
"Only more intense?"
"Maybe."
"Textbook description of early pregnancy. All those hormones, you know."
"Yes, I know, thank you." She's recovered the sheet and settled back on the pillows again. I lie back down next to her, and pull her into my arms again. I wish I knew what she was thinking. I can't tell if she's just playing devil's advocate here, or trying to protect me from getting my hopes up just to have them dashed again, or if she's really not ready to accept the possibility.
"So … seriously. What do you think? Do you think you're pregnant?"
She shrugs in my embrace. "I don't know. What are the odds? I mean, we were only trying for such a short time. Just once."
"Well, one day anyway."
"Yeah. But still … just one day. Timing has never exactly been our strong suit. So why would we suddenly get it right now?"
"Well, Abby … I told you … it's the legendary --"
"Virility of the Carter men," she chimes in. "Yeah, I know. It's just … most people try for months … years even … they don't get pregnant the first try. In my experience, I'm not that lucky."
Lucky? Well now I'm confused. Because that would imply that being pregnant right now would be a good thing. So is she … happy about this?
"Abby?" She looks up at me. Her eyes big, brown pools that are unreadable. "How do you feel about this?"
Another shrug. "Well, we don't know that there's a 'this' just yet. But if there is … well, I guess I asked for it, didn't I?"
"Yeah. But then you changed your mind. And you were pretty sure that this wasn't the right time."
"Well, I guess I've had a couple days to get used to the idea."
"So are you gonna be okay with it?"
"I hope so. I mean, I want to want it. You know? I do want it. I just want to feel … I don't know, to somehow know that it's the right thing. But I guess if I'm pregnant, after just one try, maybe it's meant to be, huh?"
Might as well get right down the heart of the matter and ask the big question, the one that's nagging at the back of mind and worrying me to no end.
"So … if you are pregnant … you're gonna keep it?"
She pulls away and looks at me like I slapped her. "Jesus, John. You think that just because I had an abortion once, I'm gonna automatically do it again?"
"What? No. I didn't ask because you had an abortion a lifetime ago in another time and another place. I asked because you freaked out three weeks ago. Right here in this apartment. You weren't sure that this was something we should be doing. And I just thought, that if you still felt that way … maybe you wouldn't want … it just seems like a complete turn around. What happened?"
"What happened?" Now she's shaking her head and looking slightly amused suddenly. Mood swings already? "What happened is that I might be pregnant. And if I am … that changes everything. Look, three weeks ago we were talking about potential pregnancy, a potential baby. Three weeks ago, we were talking about whether or not we should be trying to start a pregnancy, not about ending one that already existed. It was all theoretical. If I'm pregnant, it's reality. And believe me, there's a huge difference between preventing a pregnancy and ending one. It's not like having never been pregnant. I had to learn that one the hard way. And I don't ever want to have to go through it again. Especially not now. Not with you. Not with our baby. You know that, right?"
"I do now." I can't help but sigh a relieved sigh as she settles against me once again. "I'm sorry. It's just that this is all so unexpected."
"That I might be pregnant or my reaction?" She asks with a note of teasing in her voice.
"Both, I guess. But it just seems so unbelievable. I mean, we could have a baby. In just a few months, our baby could be lying here in between us. It's unreal."
"Yeah. It doesn't feel real yet. Of course, maybe that's because it might not be real. Maybe once we know for sure, it'll start to sink in."
"So what are we waiting for? Let's find out."
"Okay, we'll do a test at work tomorrow." She suggests.
"We're not working tomorrow."
"Oh yeah. Well, we'll just go by the hospital then and do a test."
"And get the gossip mill running? Why don't we just do a home test?"
"Okay."
"Do you have one?"
"What? On me? Nooo, sorry to say I don't just keep random pregnancy tests lying around."
"Oh. Well then … let's go get one."
"What? Now? It's the middle of the night."
"Abby … it's 10:15."
"Oh."
"I'll just run up to the drugstore on the corner. I think they're open all night. You can stay here, rest up. Get ready to pee."
"Sounds exciting."
"Or you can come with me, if you want." I offer as I get out of bed and collect my wallet and my keys. "But if you want to stay here and rest that's fine too."
"Do you know what I really want?"
"No, what?"
"For you to put some pants on before you leave the house. Or did you want to go to the store in your underwear?" I look down. Oh … oops. Right, pants. There must be some of those around here somewhere. "Try the closet." I hear the laughter in her voice. Well, I'm glad I can entertain her.
"You want anything else while I'm out?" I ask as I pull on the jeans I've managed to retrieve from the closet.
"Hmm … maybe some … ice cream?"
"Ice cream?" I grin at her. "Want some pickles too? Maybe we don't need the test at all."
"I have to be pregnant to want ice cream?"
"Well, I don't remember you eating much ice cream lately." I'll take this as another sign. I'm really starting to think that we don't need the test. "So what flavor do you want?"
"Flavor? Uh, I don't know. Maybe something chocolate. No, something with chocolate chips. No wait … maybe … Oh screw it, I'll just go with you."
"You sure?"
"Yeah, let me just throw on some clothes."
"Glad you remembered that."
"Like you would have let me leave the house naked." She says as she wriggles into panties and pulls on a tank top.
"Well, I would have enjoyed the view."
"You can enjoy the view in the privacy of our own home as soon as we get back."
"Is that a promise?"
"It better be." She's pulled on jeans and a t-shirt and whipped her hair into a ponytail. "Okay, let's go."
She plucks the keys out of my hand and heads out the door, leaving me in her wake. Still a little shocked, still kind of confused, but definitely happy --thrilled-- with this unexpected turn of events. Not to mention this utter transformation in Abby. My Abby … things are never dull when she's around. She's still the tornado that blew into my life and changed things forever. And I wouldn't have her any other way.