Tristan sank down beside her. He was restless, shifting so their arms
touched, kicking aimlessly at the concrete.
Rory gazed at him, trying to tap into some hatred, some anger, or resentment, even. There was none. Only envy, and longing for what had vanished. She sighed instead, tilting her head upwards and hoping that the blue of the sky would reach her somehow.
Vivid indigo; glowing, stretching, golden rays. The beauty of the day was incongruous, almost insulting to her pain. It should have, she supposed, given her a sense of the smallness of her concerns, instilled some modesty into her, but in point of fact, it just added to her glumness. Even the weather was working against her. Why couldn't that nice storm have been today instead of last night?
Tristan had less patience than her mother, and louder sighs than either of them. "Hey. You okay?"
"Fine." Rory was striving for some scrap of dignity, but had the sinking feeling that it was destined to elude her. "You?"
"Oh, you know. Wishing we hadn't been disturbed."
Rory's head snapped around so she could glare properly. "Really? Because I wasn't sure."
"Of what?" Patience, the implication of long-suffering, and it was all she could do not to grit her teeth.
"That you wished to remain undiscovered. You did have your eyes open you know."
A pause. A suitable length if he had needed to process, enough to divine her meaning. It would have been wholly convincing if she hadn't been so disgruntled.
"You think I wanted Luke to know?" Only slightly widened eyes; but Tristan wouldn't overact, would he?
"Oh, come on. Even if you discount all your, ah, interests, it's hardly something I'd want."
"Why not?"
"Because it's just fucked everything up, hasn't it? I could have convinced you, I could have made you see--" A hand swiped over his face; he looked as tired as she felt. "Now everything's ruined." Sudden hope. "If you let it be."
"What?" She had to be suspicious; it was right, even if everything in her was railing against it.
"You don't have to let this change anything. Things can go on just as they would have. You just have to talk to Jess before Luke does, then everything will be fine."
Pretty to think so. Oh, so pretty to think so, and Rory did want to be persuaded. Even as she knew it would be a falsehood, she wanted it.
"Luke loves you. He wouldn't--"
"No." Knee-jerk, new, unwelcome. Here. "No. Luke wouldn't do that for me, and I wouldn't deserve it anyway. No, Tristan."
Closer to a twist of his mouth than a quirk, and she wanted to kiss it away.
"Well, anyway." There were blue flowers embroidered on the net curtains of number nine. They contrasted nicely with the orange whatevers blossoming in the front garden. "Hey. Listen. Pay attention to me."
An arm slung over her stomach to gather her back in, and she hadn't meant to ignore him. Had just needed to.
"I'm listening." Quicker return than he had expected, maybe; he blinked at her. "You know, we didn't even--we didn't--" Bewildered. Another blink. The response for all awkward occasions. "We didn't even use-you know."
"Ah." Almost shockingly startled. "You're not--" A gauging look. "You're not on the pill?"
And she had thought her humiliations were over for the moment. "No."
"Ah. Well, this is awkward." Finally, he had caught up. His hand scrubbed through his hair in an achingly familiar gesture. She was most used to seeing it when he was sitting a test that he hadn't prepared for sufficiently. "Well, there are things you can do about that, there are. It's not a crisis. It's not like you need an abortion, or anything."
"I know." She did. In the vaguest of vague senses.
"A friend of mine says that if you take a month's worth of your prescription at once it acts as an abortifacient."
Rory thought about not dignifying that with a reply, but Tristan showed no sign of offering another comment.
"That is not true." At least, it was one she hadn't heard. Not that she had heard any, admittedly. "It is not. God, Tristan." Ridiculing other people for not knowing stuff you didn't know was always a balm for all wounds.
"Well, I don't know. I'm a boy." They relapsed into silence, Tristan flickering at the curtained windows across the street with considerably more agitation, Rory staring at his profile. It was -- engaging. "Oh, but I do know somebody who knows these things."
A blazing smile, pleased to be of service, and Rory had to drag herself back into gear.
"Who?"
*
"I've had two."
Louise wasn't supposed to drive without a qualified adult in the vehicle, and it didn't take a genius to see why. Rory gulped as they dodged past an overflowing Land Rover. Babies on board; visible, unfortunately. Proudly advertised via a tacky sticker slapped across a windowpane. Somebody had been suitably ashamed: there had been an unsuccessful attempt to scrape it off.
"Hmm?"
"I've had two. Abortions."
"Oh." Never had Rory heard something that so completely removed her ability to breathe. "Well. That's--" Nice for you? Hell, at least you aren't toting a matching set to calculus? I'm sorry? "I don't need one. Right? You can take it up to seventy-two hours afterwards, right?"
Whatever Tristan had said to Louise had made her more accommodating than Rory could ever remember her being, and she was immensely grateful for it. Grateful to Louise, not Tristan. Louise was being helpful beyond measure, beyond thanks, but her savoir-faire was throwing Rory off just a little bit.
"Right. Three days. But, you know, I just didn't want you to feel uncomfortable."
And that statement left Rory wondering just what favours Tristan had called in, and if she shouldn't be just a smidgen thankful after all.
They were pulled over before they reached Hartford. Louise talked her way out of the ticket for speeding, but had to accept the one for breaking the terms of her permit; it was that or be impounded.
She drove extra fast in compensation, and almost managed to make up the time.
They pulled up in front of the clinic just after ten.
Rory gazed at him, trying to tap into some hatred, some anger, or resentment, even. There was none. Only envy, and longing for what had vanished. She sighed instead, tilting her head upwards and hoping that the blue of the sky would reach her somehow.
Vivid indigo; glowing, stretching, golden rays. The beauty of the day was incongruous, almost insulting to her pain. It should have, she supposed, given her a sense of the smallness of her concerns, instilled some modesty into her, but in point of fact, it just added to her glumness. Even the weather was working against her. Why couldn't that nice storm have been today instead of last night?
Tristan had less patience than her mother, and louder sighs than either of them. "Hey. You okay?"
"Fine." Rory was striving for some scrap of dignity, but had the sinking feeling that it was destined to elude her. "You?"
"Oh, you know. Wishing we hadn't been disturbed."
Rory's head snapped around so she could glare properly. "Really? Because I wasn't sure."
"Of what?" Patience, the implication of long-suffering, and it was all she could do not to grit her teeth.
"That you wished to remain undiscovered. You did have your eyes open you know."
A pause. A suitable length if he had needed to process, enough to divine her meaning. It would have been wholly convincing if she hadn't been so disgruntled.
"You think I wanted Luke to know?" Only slightly widened eyes; but Tristan wouldn't overact, would he?
"Oh, come on. Even if you discount all your, ah, interests, it's hardly something I'd want."
"Why not?"
"Because it's just fucked everything up, hasn't it? I could have convinced you, I could have made you see--" A hand swiped over his face; he looked as tired as she felt. "Now everything's ruined." Sudden hope. "If you let it be."
"What?" She had to be suspicious; it was right, even if everything in her was railing against it.
"You don't have to let this change anything. Things can go on just as they would have. You just have to talk to Jess before Luke does, then everything will be fine."
Pretty to think so. Oh, so pretty to think so, and Rory did want to be persuaded. Even as she knew it would be a falsehood, she wanted it.
"Luke loves you. He wouldn't--"
"No." Knee-jerk, new, unwelcome. Here. "No. Luke wouldn't do that for me, and I wouldn't deserve it anyway. No, Tristan."
Closer to a twist of his mouth than a quirk, and she wanted to kiss it away.
"Well, anyway." There were blue flowers embroidered on the net curtains of number nine. They contrasted nicely with the orange whatevers blossoming in the front garden. "Hey. Listen. Pay attention to me."
An arm slung over her stomach to gather her back in, and she hadn't meant to ignore him. Had just needed to.
"I'm listening." Quicker return than he had expected, maybe; he blinked at her. "You know, we didn't even--we didn't--" Bewildered. Another blink. The response for all awkward occasions. "We didn't even use-you know."
"Ah." Almost shockingly startled. "You're not--" A gauging look. "You're not on the pill?"
And she had thought her humiliations were over for the moment. "No."
"Ah. Well, this is awkward." Finally, he had caught up. His hand scrubbed through his hair in an achingly familiar gesture. She was most used to seeing it when he was sitting a test that he hadn't prepared for sufficiently. "Well, there are things you can do about that, there are. It's not a crisis. It's not like you need an abortion, or anything."
"I know." She did. In the vaguest of vague senses.
"A friend of mine says that if you take a month's worth of your prescription at once it acts as an abortifacient."
Rory thought about not dignifying that with a reply, but Tristan showed no sign of offering another comment.
"That is not true." At least, it was one she hadn't heard. Not that she had heard any, admittedly. "It is not. God, Tristan." Ridiculing other people for not knowing stuff you didn't know was always a balm for all wounds.
"Well, I don't know. I'm a boy." They relapsed into silence, Tristan flickering at the curtained windows across the street with considerably more agitation, Rory staring at his profile. It was -- engaging. "Oh, but I do know somebody who knows these things."
A blazing smile, pleased to be of service, and Rory had to drag herself back into gear.
"Who?"
*
"I've had two."
Louise wasn't supposed to drive without a qualified adult in the vehicle, and it didn't take a genius to see why. Rory gulped as they dodged past an overflowing Land Rover. Babies on board; visible, unfortunately. Proudly advertised via a tacky sticker slapped across a windowpane. Somebody had been suitably ashamed: there had been an unsuccessful attempt to scrape it off.
"Hmm?"
"I've had two. Abortions."
"Oh." Never had Rory heard something that so completely removed her ability to breathe. "Well. That's--" Nice for you? Hell, at least you aren't toting a matching set to calculus? I'm sorry? "I don't need one. Right? You can take it up to seventy-two hours afterwards, right?"
Whatever Tristan had said to Louise had made her more accommodating than Rory could ever remember her being, and she was immensely grateful for it. Grateful to Louise, not Tristan. Louise was being helpful beyond measure, beyond thanks, but her savoir-faire was throwing Rory off just a little bit.
"Right. Three days. But, you know, I just didn't want you to feel uncomfortable."
And that statement left Rory wondering just what favours Tristan had called in, and if she shouldn't be just a smidgen thankful after all.
They were pulled over before they reached Hartford. Louise talked her way out of the ticket for speeding, but had to accept the one for breaking the terms of her permit; it was that or be impounded.
She drove extra fast in compensation, and almost managed to make up the time.
They pulled up in front of the clinic just after ten.