Once and Again
"Consequences"
No.
Anything but
that.
Anything.
It really did
take only one time, Valerie K. Lanier agreed as she sat in the doctor's office
helplessly, futilely attempting to keep control. She wasn't ready for this. No
one was. She was only twenty-seven, and though there were plenty of people with
kids at that age, she didn't need to be one of them.
Why on
earth did we ever do that? Val asked herself, rocking gently in the chair.
Why did we have to go to that bar and why did we have to get drunk and why
didn't we stop ourselves after that?
The day was
all too clear in her head—after all, it had only been five weeks ago…
She slid into the bar stool, having come back from the
bathroom, and her drink was waiting on the table. The second one, but she could
handle two. The glass rested on the wooden counter with the amber liquid inside
glistening. She raised the glass to her lips.
"Val?" The voice was disbelieving, and she turned.
"What are you doing here?" she asked him as he sat down.
"I could ask you the same
thing."
"My presentation didn't go well today," she confessed
with a long sigh. "I think I convinced the potential sponsors not to donate
rather than to donate. Horrible."
"So you're chipping the pain off by drinking?"
"You know a better way?"
"Same as her," he told the bartender, who nodded with a
smile. He turned back to Val. "I'll accompany you on the road to hangovers."
"That's not necessary," she argued. A smile started on
his handsome features.
"Well, of course it's not necessary. I wouldn't do it if
it was."
*
An hour and forty-six minutes later, they were completely
smashed. Totally. At least they weren't unconscious, but that was probably soon
to come. He helped her off her chair and she leaned on him.
"Tippy day," he said to the bartender as they exited with
a slight sway in their steps. "How many drinks did you have?"
"A lot." She hadn't been counting after the sixth.
"Me, too."
"What hotel are you staying at?" she inquired suddenly,
without a reason.
"Fifth Symphony," he answered. She smiled, a smile that
was both genuine and drunken, and genuinely drunk as well.
"So am I."
"What room number?" he questioned, looking at her. She
fought past the haze in her mind to remember.
"702," she responded, finally recalling it. "You want to
come up?"
*
The door closed behind them, and the next morning neither
of them knew why he was in her hotel room and she was in his arms and neither
remembered what had happened the previous night.
Or rather, neither wanted to.
And she had
hoped to death that nothing would come of it, but she was wrong.
She was having
a child. And the father was Tyler Connell.
*
Her fingers
nervously dialed the numbers, and her eyes closed. How on earth was she going
to tell him?
"Hello?" Val
jumped at his voice.
"Hey…" Her
voice shook.
"Val? What's
wrong?" He could hear the tears choking her voice and cutting her off, and it
frankly scared him, because Val wasn't one to get upset very easily.
"I need to
talk to you," she said, trying to keep the sobs from her voice.
"Go ahead."
"No,
face-to-face. Can you drive down here?" He was only about fifty minutes away,
less if there wasn't traffic.
"Sure." His
response was quick and definite. There was no hesitation. If Val needed him
there, she needed him there, and she needed him—it was obvious by the tone of
her voice.
"Thank you.
It's—really, really important."
"I'll leave
right now," he told her. She smiled, even though he couldn't see it over the
phone.
"Thanks," she
said again. "See you." The phone dropped into the receiver and Val sunk into
her chair. This was so absolutely surreal, like those Salvador Dalí paintings
with the melted clocks, but instead of time melting, it was her future that was
fading away and changing in front of her eyes.
*
She opened the
door as soon as he knocked.
"What's
wrong?" he inquired immediately, with no greetings or cordialities.
"I—I—we—the
night," Val said weakly. Tyler's eyes darkened.
"I am so sorry
about that. I really am. I was just drunk, and didn't know what was happening…
I am so completely sorry. It won't happen again."
"It can't,"
Val told him hoarsely. He nodded understandingly, even though it partly felt
like someone had dropped his heart off of a thirty-story building—she was,
after all, saying that she didn't love him… wasn't she? "Because—Tyler—we have
a child."
He wasn't
expecting that. Anything else he would have seen coming miles away, like a rain
cloud approaching, but this was a storm cloud that had materialized out of thin
air—and alcohol use on that fatal night.
"What?"
"I'm
pregnant," she whispered into the wind that blew outside, cool wind that
brought tinges of salt water to them, cold wind that hurt and wounded and wound
in gray wisps around a couple whose world stood motionless for all the wrong
reasons.
In the cold
wind, Val threw her arms around Tyler's neck and started crying into his shirt,
slamming her body into his so that she could release her pain on someone. He
slid his hands around her waist reassuringly and bent his head into her shoulder,
whispering in her ear.
"Calm down.
You're all right. It's going to be fine," he said soothingly, letting her tears
drip onto his shirt. "We'll get through this."
"I'm scared,"
Val confessed. Tyler sighed and wrapped his arms around her tighter.
"So am I. So
am I."
*
Her eyes
fluttered open slowly in the sunlight cascading through the windows, and she
sat up drowsily and looked around innocently before it all came rushing back to
her, slamming into her full force and leaving her shaken again.
Val breathed
deeply for a few minutes, then rose out of the bed. She couldn't fight the
truth forever—it was time to face facts. Hiding got you nowhere, and the only
thing to do was to run into the problem head-on and suffer through it.
She headed
downstairs to make breakfast, but as she entered the kitchen, it turned out
that wasn't necessary—Tyler was already awake and he had made an omelet.
"Hey," he
greeted her. Val decided it was better not to ask questions and simply sat down
in a chair.
"Morning," she
said sleepily.
"I slept on
the couch," he explained, flipping the omelet onto a plate. "I need to tell you
that I'm sorry."
"It wasn't
your fault," said Val, half lying.
"Yes, it was."
He served her part of the omelet and sat down across from her.
"Not
entirely."
"Val, I know
it was my fault so don't insist that it's not!" he said with exasperation. Val
looked at him with shock. He had never raised his voice to her in that tone. As
if realizing what he had done, he too took on an expression of surprise. "I
mean, it was me who didn't stop you from getting drunk, it was me who got drunk
too, it was me who, well, screwed you, and it was me who freaking screwed up!"
His blue eyes were filled with pain. Val shook her head, lips parted as she
stood.
"We both
screwed up," she told him softly, kissing his cheek and lying her head on his
shoulder. "We both got drunk, we both lost our heads, and now it's both of us
who will have this child, not just me. It's both of us who will share the pain
and hardships of getting through this pregnancy and then this kid, and we will
both be equally responsible." Her fingers wound through his hair and he felt
the moistness of tears on his neck. "And it's both of us who did this. We're
both going to suffer the consequences."
"I'm so
sorry," he apologized into her neck. She choked back more tears.
"We'll make
it. We'll get through this. And we're going to suffer the damned consequences
if I have anything to say about it."
*
Yes, I know. ANOTHER fic, Ivy? You're insane. Well, I am
insane and this is another fic, you smart person. Now, put that intelligence to
some use and review, please! SWFY is under construction…yes…and no more reviews
telling me that I need J/C. J/C goes and comes. Thankies. (That was directed to
Sarah Summers. All the rest of ya, ignore me like you always do. Or like you
SHOULD always do. =D)
---IVY LEAVES
