Well, I promised another update to this fic this week...and here you have it. TG update coming next, I promise.
A/N: warnings for sexual harassment, references to a past assault, (and less seriously- Nick being Nick, and a bit of a cliffhanger ending.) Quotes from timshel, the cave, and after the storm, all by mumford and sons.
Thank you to everyone who reads! And thank you even MORE to everyone who takes the time to let me know what you think. :)
{cold is the water
it freezes your already cold mind}
"You sure you're not having twins?"
You grit your teeth and force a smile at the older woman on the opposite end of the changing room bench. "Positive."
"My daughter in law, that's what she thought- turns out there was another one hiding behind his brother! And she was...well, what are you, four months? Five months? Yeah, I'd say she was even bigger than you are."
"I've had three ultrasounds already, and all of them only showed one baby," you promise as you try to get a wiggly Noah into his swim trunks, wondering why you feel the need to justify yourself to this lady when your relationship is limited to these weekly chats in the locker room at the Y. According to your doctor, you're right where you should be in terms of weight, and Lilly is actually on the smaller side of average for this stage. According to Melinda, it's because your middle aged stomach muscles aren't quite as tight as those of all the Instagram girls who are half your age and have petite little bumps. According to you, none of this is a stranger's business.
"Baby!" Noah stops moving around when he hears the magic word. You're pretty sure he still hasn't made the connection between it and your growing belly, but he hears it enough to have learned that he gets doted on by the adults in his life every time he says it. "Momma go? Baby?"
"Get your towel and then we'll go."
He picks up his towel as your observer shakes her head. "Isn't he kinda hard to understand? Doesn't seem like he talks a lot. You ever have him tested for autism?"
"He had some language delays, but he's catching up. His speech therapist says he's in the normal range for his age," you say, again wondering why you're having this conversation. "C'mon, Noah, time for the pool."
The lady says something about how you should exercise more as you walk away, holding Noah's hand tightly to keep him from slipping on the wet floor. This is his favorite time of the week, and one of your favorites as well- your Wednesday morning Mommy and Me swim class. Some of the best memories of your early childhood are of the times your mom would take you to the pool on campus during open swim hours. It was one of the few times you can remember her really interacting with you; holding onto your hands as you learned to float and reaching out to catch you when you were brave enough to stand on the edge and jump in. So with that in mind, you and Noah had been regular swimmers ever since you first took custody of him. He's grown to love the water as much as you did at that age, even practicing 'swimming' on the carpet when he's at home, and you hope Lilly will be the same way once she's old enough for the pool.
Of course, swimming necessitates a swimsuit, and therein lies the challenge. At first, you bought this ridiculous suit that covered everything but made you look like you were about to go deep sea diving in some nature documentary. Then you realized that you were actually drawing more attention to yourself that way, so you went shopping a second time and found something that would let you blend in with everyone else even if it left your arms and legs exposed. As it turned out, you might've been making a big deal out of nothing, because it's been a year and a half and only one person has been brave and/or stupid enough to say anything to you.
("Were you in some sorta accident?"
"Um. Yeah."
"What kind?"
"...a bad one?")
Then last week you'd had to go swimsuit shopping yet again- this time perusing the maternity section for something that wasn't going to make you look like a brightly patterned beach ball in a few months. You'd managed to find one in a decent color that wasn't too revealing or too frumpy, even if the halter top dipped a little lower than you would've liked, and you'd been so happy with your purchase that you celebrated by devouring an entire plate of nachos all on your own.
But now you're starting to rethink your choice (the swimsuit, not the nachos. You already rethought that one when you were up all night with heartburn). You're trying to forget about what that nosy old lady had said, trying to remind yourself that your imaginary audience is just that- imaginary. Everyone else is minding their own business, unconcerned with your new figure or with the three dark pink marks peeking out from the neckline of your suit. Your doctor had told you it's normal for scars to get darker during pregnancy, especially on your chest and stomach where the skin is stretching, and she promised they'd go back to normal once the baby's born. Nice to know, sure, but not much of a consolation right now.
Your worries start to fade once you're in the pool, too focused on Noah to think much about anything else. In the last few weeks you've been working to teach him how to blow bubbles in the water, a new skill which he thinks is hilarious and wants to practice as often as possible, especially while drinking milk out of his sippy cup.
"Voom, voom! Go!" Noah cheers, holding onto the edge of the pool and kicking his legs wildly.
You crouch down so your head is level with his. "Can you kick and blow bubbles?"
He frowns but gives it his best attempt. He's not doing both simultaneously, more like alternating one after the other and pausing every couple of seconds to cheer for himself. You join in with the praise until he gets tired and then you sit him on the stairs next to you so he can calm down.
"Wheee!" he shouts right into your ear, which is his signal for you to put him on your shoulders for a piggyback ride. You hear him, but you're distracted by two men you see sitting in the hot tub just a few feet away from you. They're talking to each other, and although you can't hear what they're saying, they're both looking right at you in a way that makes you want to duck under the water's surface and disappear.
You pretend not to see them, handing Noah a little toy boat and acting like you're engrossed in watching him play. But you're keeping an eye on them in your peripheral vision, and you silently curse when they get out of the water and go over to their towels- which happen to be placed on the bench right behind you. A woman who had been swimming laps heads into the sauna and now you're the only ones left in the pool area.
Relax, you tell yourself, you're making a big deal out of nothing. You ask Noah what color his boat is and are surprised at the way your voice shakes.
"Hey there," the taller of the two men says. When you don't react, he tries again. "I said hey."
You turn around and glare to let him know he's been heard. "Noah, baby, it's time to go home."
"You're too good to talk to us? What's the problem?"
«am I not good enough for you anymore, sweetheart?»
His friend laughs. "Aww, c'mon. You obviously like dick."
«see, you love it. you can't get enough.»
You're faintly aware of Noah making a sound like an engine revving as his toy boat cuts through the water, oblivious to anything else going on around him. You've got your hand on his arm and you try to reach over and lift him up, try to tell him again that you have to leave, but you find yourself frozen and mute. Oh god. Oh god.
A wave of panic starts to flood over you, and by some miracle it turns into the rush of adrenaline that you need to get both of you out of the pool. But your new acquaintances aren't going to give up trying to get your attention. "Wish I was the one who put that in you, goddamn. Bet I could give it to you better than whoever you've been fucking."
«fuck, you *did* miss this. I told you, didn't I? best you ever had»
Noah's starting to fuss now that he's realized swim time is over. You lean down to pick up your towels, so intent on getting out of there that you don't even realize what's now directly in their line of sight.
"Jesus, you must like it rough..."
It's too late now, but you still yank at the neckline of your swimsuit as you walk away. Noah's whining is drowning out the sounds of their voices, and you've never been so glad to hear a toddler tantrum before. For once you're not concerned that the other women in the locker room must think you're a terrible parent who can't control her child. Your only focus is on finding the nearest open changing stall and pulling Noah into it with you, locking the door and collapsing on the bench inside as you start to sob.
You cover your eyes with your hand, trying to keep your son from seeing you cry, but it's no use. He stops his own whimpering, climbing up on the bench next to you and patting your cheek. "No, momma, no. No cry. All better."
"I'm sorry," you whisper to him, laughing weakly at his 'all better'. He's so innocent right now, living in a world where everything can be fixed with a kiss and an 'all better' from mom or dad, and you hold onto him tightly as if he could transmit some of that back to you. As if you could keep him in that world forever.
He lets you cling to him without protest, petting your hair and repeating the words you've used to comfort both of you so many times before. "We're okay. We're okay."
{I know my call despite my faults
despite my growing fears}
"It's good to see you today, Olivia."
You nod, taking a seat on the couch in your therapist's office. "Yeah, you say that now...but I'm only here so I can cry for an hour without anyone giving me a hard time."
"Didn't you have another appointment with your doctor yesterday?" she asks.
"Yeah, but...it's not that. I mean, it is, but we're fine. Lilly and I are both healthy. I got to hear her heartbeat again and...the doctor told me it sounds really good," you say, the corners of your mouth turning upward as you do. You'd even insisted on taking a (bad) recording of it with your phone and you must have listened to it on repeat for at least an hour the night before. "I wish I could just focus on that and not...everything else."
"Do you want to tell me a little about what 'everything else' is?"
"Depends. Is your schedule clear for the morning?"
You start by telling her about your experience at the pool; how you're still kicking yourself for how you handled it and how you can't stop running through the 'what ifs' in your head. How you had nightmares of Noah watching while they held you down and you were powerless to stop what was about to happen. Then you move onto the next day and your OB appointment.
"I hadn't slept well, not at all, and it was first thing in the morning so...anyway, I went by myself." The Boyfriend had already scheduled an important meeting for the same time, and you had insisted he didn't need to rearrange everything for a quick ten minute checkup. "There's four doctors in the practice- three women and a man- and I guess things were a little chaotic because my usual doctor had been called away on an emergency. I didn't think anything of it until they told me that Dr. Layne is the only one in the office right now and I say to myself...oh. Shit."
"Is that the male doctor?"
You nod. "And I was blindsided. I think I told the receptionist no, I need to see a woman, and she basically tells me to take it or leave it. Then the nurse came out before I had a chance to figure out what I was going to do."
"Your usual nurse?"
"Stephanie? Yeah. Thank God for that. If she hadn't been there..." As it was, you had barely been able to force yourself out of the bathroom after she had sent you in there to get a urine sample. "The walls aren't that thick. I'm sure everyone at the nurse's station could hear me throwing up...at least this gives me an excuse, right?" you say, rubbing your stomach over the soft material of your sweater. "I should've...I wanted to tell them I was sick and we'd have to reschedule. I wanted to so badly."
"Why didn't you?"
"Because I was afraid of...I didn't want to draw any more attention to myself. I didn't want anyone to know that I was about to climb the fucking bathroom walls in a panic if I thought I could sneak out that way. It was bad enough that...I'd already kept everyone waiting and I was so embarrassed about that."
She nods sympathetically. "So you ended up going through with it."
"Yeah. I...I'd beat myself up too much if I didn't. I had to do it for Lilly, to make sure she was alright. And the actual appointment was...he was great, it was quick, Stephanie told me I could keep my own clothes on since all he was doing was using the Doppler to find the heartbeat..."
"Do you think she could tell you were uncomfortable?"
You press your lips together and close your eyes, turning your head toward the wall. "I'm pretty sure she did, yeah."
"It seems like you're awfully upset about that."
"I am!" you say, her observation having fueled the flickering anger that had been burning in your gut for days now. "I'm upset that I went home and stood in the shower for 45 minutes because I couldn't stand the feeling of some strange guy having touched me. That is not normal! How the fuck am I supposed to get through the actual birth if I can't even do this?"
"But you did do it," she reminds you. "It was unpleasant, but you found a way to cope long enough to make it through. Being anxious doesn't mean you failed. I know you won't believe that, but it's the truth."
"You should probably hold off on deciding whether or not I failed until I finish this story," you warn.
You tell her about what happened later that evening, how you were at the grocery store with Noah and struggling to reach an item situated far back on the top shelf. "I swear this baby is making me shorter- anyway, this guy comes over to us. I had passed him in the aisles a couple times, he smiled at me, I ignored him...so he says 'oh here, let me get that' and grabs it off the shelf for me. I thank him and he says 'Don't thank me, I'm honored to help. Anything for a beautiful woman. I'm sure your baby will be just as beautiful.' And then he reaches toward my stomach and I lost it. Shoved him as hard as I could...what?"
"I'm sorry," Dr. Christiansen says. "It's obviously upsetting to you and I'm not making light of that- but frankly, I think plenty of women would say you were completely justified."
"I shouldn't have, though. Not in front of Noah. He was right there and his eyes got all big, like he knew it was wrong. It's one thing if I was actually in danger- I don't want him thinking that it's okay to lash out like that. I need to set a better example. I already..." Your shoulders slump, shaking your head at the memory. "I can't get it out of my mind, thinking about how I cried in front of him at the pool. I never let myself break down like that while he's around. Especially now that he's more aware of...goddamit. See? I told you when I walked in that I'd cry."
She gives you some space, silent for several moments while you stare down at your feet. You feel like Noah, believing that if I can't see her, she can't see me and thus can't see your tears. "What is it that you're thinking about?"
"How I was that kid who grew up having to console their mom even when I didn't understand what was going on. How I was that kid who grew up being told what a scary place the world is and how you can't ever let your guard down because everyone's out to hurt you if you give them the chance. I don't want that life for them."
"For Noah and Lilly." You nod. "Do you think that's what's happening now? Does Noah seem upset by all this?"
You think back to last night after you got home from the store, how he went about his regular pursuits like building Lego towers and making a beard out of bubble bath while he was in the tub. "I guess not. But babies pick up stress hormones in the womb, it goes into their bloodstream and it's unhealthy. It can alter their brain chemistry."
"Well, you already told me how anxious you were at the doctor's office- but Lilly checked out alright, yeah? Heartbeat was normal, she's growing like she's supposed to?"
"Yeah."
"Olivia...it sounds to me like you're doing everything right. Actually, I know you are. I've seen all the work you've done with Noah to make sure he feels safe and secure, and I think it's paying off." You tilt your head slightly, considering this. "Your mother either didn't realize the effect she was having on you, or she didn't know what to do about it. But you- you're conscious of what's going on and when something's not right, you do something about it. That's all anyone can expect from you."
"I expect more from me. I shouldn't be so afraid of such stupid, minor things and...Jesus. I hate feeling so out of control."
"You've been through times like this before, though, where you felt like you weren't in control of your emotions or how you responded to them."
"Yeah, no shit- I have. And here I am again. So...what'm I even doing?" you ask no one in particular, attempting to fold your arms across your chest in defiance and getting irritated when you realize that doesn't work as well any more.
"Well, what I was going to say is- you've been here before. Or in places like it. And every time, you've worked at it and you've found a way to adapt and things have gotten better. I've got faith that you can do it this time too."
"I...well. I want to. Because I get really fucking tired of...I'm back to that feeling of where I walk down the street and I'm convinced I'm being watched."
"Which is something you've worked through before. And just because it's popped up again, doesn't mean you're a failure or that you won't be able to get past it this time." You shrug, picking at your nail polish. "Do you have any idea what triggered it now?"
"Hmm...I feel like I can defend myself, somewhat. Or at least I used to. But now...I've got my daughter with me 24/7, so it makes that harder. I'm not just afraid of people hurting me anymore. And then when I have Noah with me too, it all multiplies because I'm even more vulnerable right when I have an extra person to protect."
"And that's what frightened you so much about the incident at the pool."
"Yeah. Well...not just that. It scared me, the way I reacted. How I just froze. I can't do that."
She marks something down on her notepad. "What do you think you should have done instead?"
"Get out of there."
"But isn't that what you did? You got yourself and Noah away from them without escalating the situation- so even if you froze, you must've recovered quickly. To me, it sounds like you did exactly what you should've done."
"But not what I wanted to do," you say, thinking a bit sadly about how a younger you wouldn't have hesitated to put them in their place.
She seems to pick up on your thoughts. "And you're right- being pregnant does make you more vulnerable, in a way. I think a lot of women have that feeling. But I can see how it would bother you more than most, given your past and given that you've always been in a job where you're in the protector role."
"It definitely makes me feel...less intimidating. Especially when I don't have the badge and the gun to hide behind. Maybe I should just stick my badge right there," you say jokingly, pointing to the fullest part of your stomach, "and it would scare off all the unwanted attention." Your smile vanishes as an old memory pops into your head. "I only ever saw one picture of my mom that was taken while she was pregnant with me...it was at some sort of award ceremony at the university and anyway, she had a ring on her left hand. I asked her about it and she said it was a fake, that she wore it so she wouldn't get hassled about being single and pregnant. Everyone close to her knew there was no husband, of course, but it kept strangers away." You remember the forced smile on her face, so in contrast to the way her eyes were looking nervously at something off-camera. "I can't imagine how she must've felt, you know? Every day I feel like I understand more of just how much I can't understand what she went through."
"Does it make you miss her more?"
"I miss not having a mother to talk about all of this shit with. It feels like that's who you're supposed to come to with everything, that's who's supposed to help you through it...but then again, I don't know if she could've been that person for me even if she was alive. If we'd have the kind of relationship where we could talk about these things."
"Understandable," she says. "How about your boyfriend? Have you told him about what's been going on?"
You think about the last couple of days, about how she's always warning you against using sex as a way to avoid your feelings and how The Boyfriend has probably realized that it's not just pregnancy hormones that have you so desperate to be fucked. "Ha. Funny you should ask..."
{you are not alone in this
as brothers we will stand
and we'll hold your hand}
[liv help. I think I'm being taken advantage of]
[your date? how did that go?]
[ok. until we started talking about music. she likes the shins!]
[so do you...]
[yeah but I would never TELL anyone that. and her favorite death cab for cutie album is Plans. she might as well be you. I don't think this is going to work out.]
[because she likes the same music you're ashamed of liking?]
[dating civilians is weird, liv. how do people do it?]
[you're asking me? seriously?]
[heh. never mind. I just dunno. we had a nice time and everything, but...she doesn't know me.]
[but isn't that what you wanted by moving? a fresh start?]
[I thought I did. and I like it here, but the people aren't the same. Being back in NYC reminded me how much I miss being around people who just *get* me. like you- and even amanda, even when it's complicated, we had this understanding. we have history.]
[I think you need to give it time, nick.]
[but how long? she called me today to set up an appointment to come meet the puppies at the shelter. and then she asked me to dinner. am I being exploited? how long does this go on for? am I going to have to sleep with her to get my puppy? I mean, I'll do it. but I'm just saying.]
[you don't have to sleep with her. remember what I said? act like you would with me. what would you say if I asked you if you wanted to have sex?]
[are you pregnant? how drunk are we?]
[NICK]
[I would say maybe we should just cuddle instead. and maybe I'd touch your boobs and pretend like it was an accident. but that's it]
[I'm ending this conversation. you're on your own]
[that's ok. I have to get going. I have somewhere to be.]
[sounds good]
[you're not going to ask me where I'm headed?]
[No]
[Liv...it's somewhere very exciting]
[I bet]
[aren't you curious?]
[I am not]
[fine. because I wasn't going to tell you anyway]
[it's your call, nick]
[I'll text you later tonight and tell you]
"Tiooooooo!" Noah yells, running into the living room when he hears Nick's voice coming from your phone.
"Look who wants to talk to you!" As you hold it up so he can see Nick's face on the screen, he's so excited that he starts jumping around in some sort of half-wave, half-dance. "Tell Tio what Dad got you today."
"Hat!"
"No, buddy, that's what Tio got you. You like your hat, huh?" As part of the farm-themed birthday party that Nick had arranged for Noah, he brought the birthday boy a straw cowboy hat that had been handmade by his neighbor. He brought you a hat too, one with a big floppy brim that you threaten to take to work and hide under whenever you're in the mood to ignore everyone.
Noah races out of the room and emerges a second later to model his hat for Nick. "Look at that cowboy!"
"That cowboy got a potty chair today," you tell Nick, looking meaningfully at Noah. "Because real cowboys don't wear diapers."
Noah is uninterested, too busy singing an off-key rendition of some song he learned at preschool. "He's pretty good, Liv. Think he's ready to join his first band?"
"No bands until he's potty trained," you say, looking at the screen in search of some sympathy. "I don't know what I'm gonna do if I have two in diapers."
"He'll figure it out. Right, sobrino?"
You sit Noah on your lap so he can say goodnight and blow kisses to his uncle, and then it's off to bed with a promise that you'll text Nick to ask about his mystery trip once Noah's down for the night.
[Liv today I took the first step toward making one of my dreams come true]
[did you have sex with her?]
[NO. another dream. not puppy related. are you ready for this?]
[probably not]
[I auditioned for wheel of fortune!]
[wow. okay. I didn't know that was your dream?]
[my therapist told me that I should try new things, stuff that I'd never have the chance to do in new york. and I always loved that show as a kid. reminds me of watching with my abuela and how she learned English that way]
[that's sweet, nick. so how did the audition go?]
[well I had sent in a video earlier. really played up the disabled former cop thing- you gotta pull on those heartstrings, you know? so it must have worked, bc they invited me to come in and play a mock game with a few other people. and I made the cut to come back to a second round of auditions!]
[congratulations!]
[the producer woman said the camera loves me. I think it helped that I wore my old patrol uniform. women can't resist it.]
[be careful or you'll end up having to say yes to another date with someone else]
[one of the other contestants asked if she could hire me for her bachelorette party]
[please tell me you said no]
[I told her I don't strip, but I can salsa dance. she said that's ok as long as I wear the uniform]
[what]
[do you think I can learn salsa in three days?]
[No]
[I better get going then. time is of the essence]
{the sun it rises slowly as you walk
away from all the fears and all the faults you left behind}
"Hey. Can I talk to you about something?"
The Boyfriend doesn't seem surprised by your question- as you predicted, he must've known it was coming eventually. "Yeah, course."
"This isn't what's been bothering me...well, not really," you warn, lest he be expecting too much.
"Aha. So you admit it."
"Pretty obvious, huh?" When he shrugs, you move closer to him on the couch. "It's gonna be okay, I promise. Just needed to sort some stuff out in my head."
He asks if you've talked to your therapist about it, and he seems to relax a little when you assure him you have. "That's good. As long as you can let it out someplace...that's all I want."
"This is going to sound like it's coming out of nowhere, but- would it bug you if I switched my ring over to my left ring finger? Just for a while, only when I'm out in public..."
"Does it not fit on your right hand anymore?" he asks, looking down at your fingers, and you kick yourself for not having come up with that excuse on your own.
"It doesn't." You make a big deal of twisting the band back and forth, acting like you have to struggle to force it off your finger. "See? I'm afraid that one day it'll get stuck and I'd have to get it cut off."
"Or you want to keep the 'gentlemen' of New York from thinking you're a lonely single mother looking for love," he says knowingly. "Is someone giving you a hard time? Because I swear to God, I will fucking-"
"I'm fine. I promise." The truth is, you know it's not going to deter the more ardent perverts and sleazebags out there. But it might keep some of the low-level creeps away, and more importantly than that, you hope it'll serve as the psychic shield that your Fearlessness necklace was to you for so many years. It was your mother's ring, after all. She survived, and you will too- but you'll also do so much more than just survive. You owe that much to her, and to yourself.
And maybe someday you'll pass it down to Lilly, and you'll have something else to wear in its place.
The Boyfriend must be able to read your thoughts, because he starts lightly rubbing your bare left ring finger. "You know...if you want an engagement ring. You know you could have the real thing, right?"
{and love will not break your heart
but dismiss your fears}