Chapter Eighteen

Just boarding now. See you in a few hours x

From the moment he opened his eyes, he couldn't stop smiling. As he made himself coffee, he caught himself humming like an idiot. It actually got worse upon receiving her text. But if he was completely honest with himself, he couldn't care less, and felt entitled to do so. He thought the day would never come. For weeks now he'd been staring at the calendar in his email and wishing the time to move a bit faster. Finally, his wish was granted. In just a few hours, Maureen and Libby would finally be back with him. Despite Maureen's reassurances, he was still worried about her, but he felt confident that once they arrived, everything would fall into place.

As he'd often done on days of important significance, he started the day at the cemetery. He wouldn't call himself superstitious, but that was a tradition he felt compelled to maintain. Every time he laid fresh flowers on his friends' graves he couldn't believe how long it had been. He just sat there and talked to them, for he believed they were listening, wherever they were. He told them about his work in Life, about Maureen and her little girl they never got to know. God, he wished they'd been there. He wished that Roger and Collins would stand beside him when he married her at long last. He could imagine it so clearly; he nearly burst into laughter as the images flashed through his mind, like a film. He'd flash them a victorious smile as Maureen would walk down the aisle. That same annoying, teasing smile they always directed at him. Mimi and Angel could have been her bridesmaids. Angel would have designed her wedding dress of course. He was sure it would have looked beautiful, like nothing anyone had ever seen before.

The melancholy he'd always felt upon leaving the cemetery didn't last long this time, for he was reminded of what was ahead, and for once, euphoria was stronger than sadness. He'd taken the day off, initially thinking he would be too distracted to be useful at the gallery, but now back in town, he was beginning to regret his decision. It seemed pointless to be wandering aimlessly. It was a gorgeous April day and everywhere was hopelessly crowded, the streets teeming with tourists and New Yorkers alike. Returning home would be pointless as well, for he got the apartment all ready for them the previous evening. He'd finished unpacking their stuff, changed the sheets in his bedroom and put news ones in Libby's new bedroom.

He ventured inside Bryant Park and made a beeline to a nearby coffee stand, getting another drink and something to eat. When he was looking for someplace to sit, he heard his name being called. Andy was waving at him from one of the tables facing the lawn. They didn't get a chance to speak properly since that evening at the gallery, what with his distraction over Maureen's illness and his upcoming photography course.

"I thought you looked familiar," said Andy now, and gestured at the vacant chair beside him. "Day off?"

"Yeah, sort of," he said. "You?"

"One of my meetings ended early." He was about to ask what his work as a graphic designer actually entailed, when Andy cleared his throat. "I hope you were not offended I left so soon that day in your gallery. I had to answer an urgent call from a client."

"Don't worry about it."

He did ask Andy about his job then, but his reply didn't make much sense to his muddled mind. He could feel himself get fidgety with every passing second. In his head he was trying to calculate how long it would take him to get to Grand Central, and from there to the airport, and still be there in time for their flight. From time to time he was looking at his phone, irrationally expecting a text from Maureen saying they had arrived. Which made no sense; there was still plenty of –

"Are you okay?"

"Sorry. Yes. Can't be better." Andy was still looking at him curiously, and as reluctant as he was to discuss his personal life, he knew he wouldn't be able to get away with just that. "I just need to pick up my fiancée from the airport in a bit. I haven't seen her in weeks, so I guess I'm a bit antsy."

"Does she travel for work?"

"No, she lives... lived, in San Francisco. It's a long story."

Even if he wanted to elaborate, he couldn't. On a nearby bench, a toddler was having a complete temper tantrum, yelling something about chocolate with tears and snot running down his chubby cheeks whereas his poor mother was trying to appease him, all the while glancing around her fretfully, as if hoping no one was watching. Meaning to comment something about it to Andy, he noticed the other man had physically recoiled. He looked almost disgusted by the sudden commotion. Then he smiled sheepishly, almost apologetically. "I'm not great with kids. Always found it difficult to be around them."

"To each his own, right?"

"Have you got any?"

"Not in the conventional sense of the word. My fiancée has a daughter, so..." He let his voice trail, too distracted to delve into the whole Libby situation to practically a stranger who didn't care that much about kids anyway. "I've got two nephews and a niece, but I'm hardly uncle of the year."

"I would have made a terrible uncle," said Andy with something like horror in his voice. The child next to them had calmed somewhat, and his mother was able to drag him away. "So, umm, I didn't know you were engaged. I sort of assumed you and Tammy..."

"You're not the first to be assuming that," he chuckled bitterly. "Nope, Tammy and I are just close friends. If we were anything more I suspect she would have killed me in my sleep. I could probably throw in a good word on your behalf if you're interested." He felt sort of bad to be flaunting Tammy around like that, but he did mean to set her up with Oliver, and although he didn't know Andy as well, he seemed pretty decent.

"Thanks, Mark, I'm sure she's great. But given the circumstances, I wouldn't do this to her."

He hesitated, and then said, "You know, many people live with HIV. It's different now than how it used to be. You shouldn't let the disease control or define you. Otherwise where's the fight?" He regretted the words the moment he had uttered them. What was he doing? He didn't know the first thing about Andy; what gave him the right to patronize him like that? "Sorry, I shouldn't have – I don't know what came over me. Actually I do know; I'm not really myself today."

"Don't worry about it."

"No, I was overstepping, I didn't mean..."

"You're good, Mark. It's not just the HIV." Andy paused, as if unsure how to continue. Hmm. Maybe he's not the only one who was uncomfortable sharing things about himself. "You know how some people have a green thumb, and other can't help but kill any plant that comes their way?" He nodded, although he wasn't entirely sure where this was going. "Well, I'm like that, with relationships."

Despite his current discomfort, that he could understand.

"I mean, my last serious relationship was years ago. Six, I think." The very fact seemed to catch him off-guard. Then he shook his head in dismay. "It started off well enough. We were young and in love and high on life. It changed almost overnight. Suddenly we wanted different things. It didn't end well. We weren't right for each other, after all. And with HIV... suffice it to say it doesn't make things easier."

"But not impossible." Honestly, he didn't know why he was arguing. He really was out of it today. "She might turn up when you least expect her. Or he, I'm not judging," he hurriedly added, smiling crookedly. Thankfully, it made Andy chuckle.

"Is this how it happened to you?"

His smile widened, his thoughts turning back to that fateful Christmas several months ago. "This is exactly how it happened to me."

"Then I'm happy for you. I'd love to meet her."

"I'll have to get her here first." He glanced at his phone again. It was almost time. "I should go."

"So long as you remember which airport to pick her up from."

Huh. That sounded like something Tammy might have said.

As far as airports went, he had mixed feelings. He loved them and he hated them, but not as much as he hated hospitals. The crowdedness of them was making him nervous, he supposed, but he liked how you could see every kind of emotion wherever you looked. He once considered doing an exhibition about it, but since then shelved the idea.

He glanced at the board as soon as he rushed inside Arrivals, and their flight details were flashing on the screen, meaning they were just landing. His heart skipped a beat. He almost couldn't believe it was happening. He now kicked himself for not getting a balloon for Libby, for them to be able to spot him in the crowd, if anything else. He did, however, have her belated birthday gift safely in his pocket. He patted it again to make sure; the bulk of the small box was comforting. He grinned mischievously to himself. Maureen would kill him when she found out, but he didn't care. He wanted to get Libby something special.

He checked his phone, but there were no new messages – he figured Maureen's hands were full, or she ran out of battery. Both scenarios were equally possible, knowing her. He would just have to be patient for a little longer.

Just when he decided to move someplace where he would be easier to spot, something bumped into him, then wrapped around his knees. He let out a surprised chuckle and bent down to lift up Libby in a hug. She returned it just as fiercely, giggling excitedly as he breathed in the scent of her hair.

"It's so good to see you," he said, almost unprepared to the emotion that hit him full force. He almost chocked up on the words. He wrapped his arms around her tighter so she wouldn't slip and fall. "Where's Mommy?"

But he already spotted her as he looked away from Libby, walking towards them with a smile on her lips, getting wider with each step that brought her closer to him. He could feel his own smile fade at the sight of her, and he slowly lowered Libby to the ground. She sounded better over the phone, but with her finally in front of him, he could see the extent of it in a way he hadn't expected. Maureen could never be called scrawny, but there was no other word to describe the woman standing in front of him. She almost looked like a shadow of herself, her jeans not clinging to her curves but hanging loosely on her waist, her blouse looking twice her size. With her hair pulled up in a messy bun, her cheekbones looked more prominent in her pale face, and since she had hardly any makeup on it was easier to notice the dark circles around her eyes.

She was carrying one bag, which she dropped on the floor in order to embrace him. He held her as close as he dared; her waist felt tiny. A shiver ran down his spine. As if she could feel it, she looked up at him pleadingly. "Don't. I'm alright."

"Oh my God, Maureen," he said quietly, not wishing Libby to pick up on the rising panic in his voice.

"Mark, please don't."

He touched her face. She looked so fragile. But this was not the time to have this discussion. While Libby didn't seem as cranky he'd feared she would be, he was anxious to get both of them home. He held Maureen's gaze, and as if she knew what he was thinking, she reached for Libby's hand as he picked up the discarded bag, and led the way back out.

When they got home, he gave them a tour to show them where was what in the apartment. He'd made sure to unpack and arrange as much of Libby's stuff as possible so she would feel at home, and much to his relief it seemed to work. Maureen looked exhausted, and was clearly doing intense efforts to appear cheerful for Libby's sake. He knew there was no way they would be able to talk about things so long as Libby was around, and either way he didn't mean to push it. He was just so happy to have both of them there. He sent her off to shower and change, and urged her to lie down. Then he left the room, not wishing to hover, and went to check on Libby. She was sitting cross-legged on the floor in her bedroom, examining the books he had painstakingly stacked on the shelves all week. She had that contemplative look; he hoped she wasn't homesick already.

"Hey sweetheart, are you okay?"

She turned to face him and nodded, then brought her attention back to the books. He hesitated, then walked in and sat on the floor beside her. "Do you like your new room?"

"Yes. Roger does, too."

"That's good." For a moment neither of them said anything. The silence was piercing, hanging heavily between them. It was the thing he had always feared of in the few opportunities the two of them had been alone together. He felt compelled to fill in the silence somehow. His concern for Maureen was clearly coming in the way of everything else. He desperately needed a distraction.

As his glance fell on the cover of one of the books, the answer dawned on him like an epiphany. "Do you want to do something fun?"

She looked up at him, her eyes hazel and trusting. "Like what?"

"Like... the carousel in the park," he said, nodding towards the stain of green visible through her window. "We couldn't go there when you were last here because of the weather, but it should be open now." Libby looked at him thoughtfully for a moment, then nodded and stood up. He smiled at her and stood up as well. He scribbled a note for Maureen, who was now sleeping peacefully, and they left.

By the time they got off the carousel, he was beginning to feel like his old self again. Libby seemed more chipper as well and not the least bit tired, which he found shocking given the enormity of the day. He told her about the Alice in Wonderland statue, and they strolled across the park to find it. As opposed to his earlier fears, he cherished the chance to be alone with her, to hang out just the two of them. If she was to make her new home here, if he was going to adopt her, he wanted them to get to know each other better.

Afterwards he got them both hot dogs and fries from a nearby vendor, telling himself Maureen probably wouldn't mind. They found a vacant bench by the Bethesda Fountain to enjoy their early dinner. For a few minutes they ate in absolute silence, but he actually didn't mind it this time. Then a while later, Libby looked up at him seriously, and he had a feeling he knew what she wanted to ask.

"Will Mommy be okay?"

His heart broke at her worried expression. "I hope so," he replied honestly. "We'll take care of her the best we can now that you're here, right?"

"Maybe we can take her to the carousel."

"I bet she'll love that," he agreed. Knowing Maureen, she absolutely would. "Don't worry about Mommy, Libby. She just needs to get some rest."

Libby seemed dubious, but she nodded. "Okay."

"Here," he said, giving her the last French fry in the paper tray. "It's quite the achievement, you know. A visit to Central Park and hot dogs on your first day, you're a true New Yorker now." That seemed to please her, for her concerned expression slowly shifted into a smile, one which reached all the way to her eyes. Then he suddenly remembered the little box in his pocket. "I almost forgot, I've got something for you."

"For me?" she echoed, looking stunned.

"Yeah. I got it for your birthday, but it wasn't ready on time." He took out the box and handed it to her. He watched as she stared at it for a second, then slowly opened it, and lifted her gaze to his. He laughed softly, and lifted the silver necklace out of its place. He tried to push Maureen's reaction out of his mind for the time being. They were practically married; this was okay. "It's a four leaf clover, see? They bring good luck. And your name is inscribed here in the back." He turned the charm to show her.

"It's pretty."

"I'm glad you like it. Want to put it on?" She nodded and turned her back on him; he moved her ponytail aside so he could fasten the necklace. "You probably won't be allowed to wear it in school, but... There you go," he said as she turned back to face him. He smiled at her. "Happy belated birthday."

"Thank you," she said, and he was taken aback as she threw her small arms around him with the biggest smile on. He held her close, his thoughts drifting once more from daughter to mother.

After making sure Libby was tucked in comfortably, he left her night light on and headed into the bedroom to check on Maureen. On their way home, they had picked up some soup for her in his favorite deli, and he was determined to make her eat it. She was just waking up, it seemed; she was leaning against the head board twisting her hair into a bun at the top of her head, only for it to tumble down her back again a second later. Their eyes met as he stepped in, and she smiled wearily.

"Hi," she said, her voice deep and raspy from sleep. "What have you got there?"

"I got you some dinner. Tomato soup?" He eyed her carefully. There was some color back in her cheeks now, as if Manhattan itself had the power to make her better.

"Stop staring, Mark, I told you – "

"You're fine, I know. I'm just – "

"Worried, I know."

He sighed, left the soup on the dresser and came to sit on the bed next to her. He tried his best not to stare, not wishing to upset her further. Instead he reached for her hand, slowly lacing their fingers together.

"Is Libby alright?"

"She's asleep. We had a busy afternoon." She seemed confused. "Didn't you see the note I left you?"

"No." She seemed to have only noticed the note on the nightstand, for she let go of his hand and picked it up. Her smile widened an inch as she read it. "The carousel?"

"She loved it. We can all go when you're better."

She leaned over to peck his lips. "Thank you. For watching her. I'm not exactly up for mother of the year award after spending the afternoon sleeping instead of looking after my daughter on our first day away from home."

"You are home," he reminded her. "And don't be so hard on yourself. She was fine, we had a blast. I'll have you know we've already made plans for the next few weekends. She wants to fly a kite at the park, go on the Staten Island ferry, go to Coney Island..." He let his voice trail, unsure if she was listening. She didn't respond, but didn't take her eyes off him. He chuckled softly, feeling self-conscious. He could feel his cheeks begin to burn. "Now you're the one staring."

She smiled sheepishly. "Sorry, I just... I missed you."

"I missed you too." He leaned forward to wrap his arms around her. "I'm so happy you're finally here," he said as she leaned her head against his shoulder. He rubbed her back slowly, never wanting to let go. Eventually she pulled away but stayed very close. Her hands were still wrapped around his neck, her fingers fluttering against the back of his neck. He leaned forward to kiss her gently, realizing only then how much he'd missed that. He felt her smile against his lips as she kissed him back, and soft and slow soon became heated and demanding. She lay back down and broke the kiss only so she could pull off his shirt. As she did so, his glasses slipped and fell on the bed. In the back of his mind he knew he should probably look for them, but the truth was he couldn't care less what had become of them, not if that meant pulling away from her.

He let his hands drift under her tee shirt as he started trailing kisses to the hollow of her neck. She had lost so much weight, he was scared to touch her, as if she might break if he did. He could actually trace her ribcage with his finger. He didn't have a chance to linger on the thought, for she was urging him on, her fingers digging into his shoulders. He nibbled on her ear, and she made that purring sound at the back of her throat that drove him absolutely crazy. Her nails dug into his back and she muttered something that could have been Mark or more or missed you. His mind was everywhere. He couldn't remember where he had moved the pack of condoms that was previously in his dresser.

And then something terrifying occurred to him, and he sat up abruptly. "Oh my God, you're pregnant."

"What?" asked Maureen as she sat up as well, looking disheveled and deliciously flushed. The look she gave him was half incredulous, half irritated. "What are you…"

"That's it, isn't it?"

"What's it? Mark..."

"No, no," he cut her off, now frantically looking for his glasses, as if they were somehow vital to the conversation, to the wild thought that had insistently planted itself inside his head, becoming more tangible by the second. Finally finding them, he hastily put them back on. "That's why you were not feeling well. That's why you didn't tell me. You were afraid to tell me..."

"Mark – "

"I mean, we weren't exactly careful when I came to visit you on Libby's birthday, which is totally on me, but I was in no condition to… and now... It all makes sense."

"Mark, you're making no sense."

"The timing is not ideal, but we can work it out."

"Oh my God, please stop talking," she laughed. Actually laughed. The sound alone brought his turmoil of thoughts into a complete halt. He was on the cusp of a nervous breakdown and she was laughing?

"How are you not freaked out by this?"

"Because I'm not pregnant!"

"How can you be so sure?"

"Because I just got my period last week." She reached out to ruffle his hair, giggling. Her eyes were still gleaming with amusement; probably because he looked so baffled still. "While you seem well-versed as for how you can get someone pregnant," she paused, probably because he was blushing again, "you seem to forget one crucial fact: there are other contraceptives other than condoms which are just as efficient. Also, pregnant women gain weight, not lose it." She held his gaze, playfulness all gone from her eyes. "It was a hectic time. There's nothing else to it. Besides, if I were pregnant, I wouldn't have been afraid to tell you, and I'm offended you assumed otherwise."

"I didn't actually... I don't know what..."

She pressed a finger to his lips; he forgot what he'd meant to say. Slowly, without breaking eye-contact, she took off his glasses. "Now... where were we?"

"I brought you dinner," he stupidly replied, unsure where it had even come from.

"Not exactly what I had in mind," she murmured, her breath hot against his skin. She lifted her eyes to his. "Don't make me beg."

Actually, that didn't sound half bad.