"Is this about the baby?"
June whirled around, a hard look on her face, "No, no, no, Anden…"
"I'm sorry that happened to you…," he pressed on, encroaching on her space, trying to help, not realizing how much worse he was making it.
"It's not about that, it's not."
"It wasn't your fault."
"Just stop!"
"These things happen June."
Their words overlapped. Their voices rose and fell in a dissident cacophony. Anden desperately trying to offer comfort, June desperately trying to deflect the blows he was unwittingly dealing her. The force of what she had kept hidden swelled around her. It filled the room, pressing in on her body. She wanted to beg Anden not to push her to the breaking point but she could feel that it was already too late. There was only way to relieve the pressure of his smothering care and her own suffocating shame.
"I don't want children Anden, I didn't then and I don't now," she yells, her voice rising over his. There it is, one of the many dark things she kept carefully compartmentalized in a corner of her heart, hanging in the air between them: as dark and tangible as the clouds of ash that had once filled the Republic's atmosphere. It startles them both. June claps a hand over her mouth trying to stifle the horrified gasps that are coming out of her mouth as she tries to get herself back under control. She has to focus her mind, so she counts the seconds until Anden says something…anything.
"What?"
Seventeen seconds. He sounds devastated.
It had happened almost two years ago. They'd both drank too much while away together. They hadn't been as careful as they usually were. Six weeks later she realized the consequence. June had sat on the bathroom floor, her head resting on her knees, while alternating waves of fear and self-loathing crashed over her. When she told Anden, she expected to see her own apprehension and fear reflected in him. She had not expected his utter joy. All the things she had planned to say, I'm not ready, I don't know that I want this, I'm scared, just died in her throat.
Weeks multiplied. For a long time she'd figured she didn't want children, but when it was actually happening… some days she was filled with longing for the life growing inside her, she wanted to feel like she had a family again just as much as Anden did. She had lost so much. But most days she was overwhelmed by that loss. Her whole life, fate had seemed to come after her at every turn, snatching up the people she loved with cool indifference. Fate took them from what was supposed to be a short drive, snuck up on them in an alley, whisked them away with not even memories left to link her to them. It terrified her to think she might have to experience this again, tenfold. I'm going to tell him. I'm going to tell him tonight, she'd think. But she couldn't bring herself tell Anden any of this. She couldn't share her fears because inevitably she'd have to get at the heart of what scared her about this baby. She wasn't sure she loved Anden enough to share this with him, to be able to rely on him to help her shoulder the weight of the things that terrified her. She loved Anden, she liked their life together. But she knew her love for this baby would demand a love for its father that she wasn't sure she was capable of anymore. If she brought a life into this world, accepted that kind of love again, and it was taken away from her… the terror paralyzed her.
Two weeks later, she was rushed to the hospital in the back of a military jeep. Anden's fingers locked around hers. Her abdomen was agonized by cramps and the bleeding was far too heavy to be normal. When the doctor came in and told her she was miscarrying, June wept in a way she hadn't in years. Uncontrollable, heaving sobs wracked her body, Anden somehow managed to sit stoically by her side. He rubbed slow circles between her shoulder blades, a pillar of strength. But what he didn't know was that her tears were just as much out of relief as they were out of sorrow. At least this time fate had struck quickly. June knew she would never try again.
Now seeing the hurt on Anden's face, she knew she was right to feel guilty. She'd purposely excluded him from her thoughts, her feelings, her decisions about things that he had a right to know. She had lied to him by omission. But then again shouldn't he feel guilty too? Had he ever once asked her what her feelings on the matter were? Couldn't he tell something was off, that there was more going on than what she was telling him?
"I don't want children," she repeated coldly.
"Since when?" Anden asked dryly. His tone rubbed June the wrong way and she was so filled with bitterness she could practically taste it in her mouth.
"Since I was seventeen. And no, you never asked," June replied caustically.
Anden stared at her and she didn't waver under his gaze. It was like he was deciding what course of action he should take, should he be angry, remorseful, or sympathetic?
"Even when—"
"Yes," June cut him off, already knowing what he was going to ask.
"I don't believe that," he replied.
"Well believe it," she responded touchily.
"No, no you're just saying that because you're angry, it's not the truth!"
"Yes it is!"
"I remember June, I remember that night in the hospital—"
"You don't know—"
"You were crying, you cried," he shot back almost accusingly.
They were yelling again. That anger of his that typically lay dormant rose into activity. It used to scare her, but now that she had grown overly accustomed to Anden's easy tact she welcomed the opportunity to have a good old-fashioned knock down, drag out.
"You want the truth?" She shouted.
"The truth would be nice," he demanded.
She let out a noise of frustration, "The truth is I cried because I was relieved. I was so relieved, because I was so scared! So go ahead hate me," she accused. They were both pacing the apartment like hostile animals. Alternately invading each other's space and retreating into their own.
"Why didn't you tell me any of this?"
"Why did I have to tell you, you didn't notice that I was—"
"Don't turn this on me. I thought you were with me on this, you let me believe that!"
"Oh please, you assumed I was with you—"
"Well, excuse me for—"
"I can't be 'with you' on everything Anden," she retorted making finger quotes; June knew she was going too far but she couldn't stop, "I'm not you're fucking Princeps!"
"I don't expect you to be my damn Princeps, I expect you to be my partner," Anden finished gravely. His voice suddenly low and carrying so much more weight than all of their screaming
And there it was… shots had been fired. They paused. Now they were at an impasse. Both angry, both disappointed.
"I don't trust you right now," he finally said with a dispassionate tone that stung worse than his heated yelling.
"What because I don't want to get married?" June practically spat, still worked up from their argument.
Anden fixed his solemn eyes on her, "No, because you don't trust me enough to even talk about it, to give me a chance to understand what's going on in your head."
He pushed past her into the bedroom, reappearing a moment later with a pillow under his arm.
"What are you doing?" she asked bitterly.
"I can't sleep with you tonight. Let me know when you're ready to stop being so damn selfish," he growled, not even bothering to look back at her.
"Selfish?" She repeated, shaking her head, "you're an asshole," she said simply.
June retreated into the bedroom closing the door firmly behind her. She didn't make it much further. She leaned against the door and let herself slide down until she was huddling on the ground. Hot, silent, tears tracked down her face.
Her brother had taught her that when emotion failed logic would save you. It had been her own mantra for years. But now, with emotion failing her, she wasn't sure of the logical choice. She tries to see the situation clearly, with a rational eye. Her eyes roam the bedroom and she tries to see their relationship the way Anden must.
They'd painted this room. When she'd first moved in Anden thought a change of pace would make her feel more at home. They'd picked out the color together. The building's maintenance crew had offered to do the labor but they'd wanted to do it themselves. Pictures of the two of them sat on top of the bureaus. Monogrammed towels hung in their bathroom that Mariana had given them for Christmas.
She could tell now that she was the illogical one. For all intents and purposes she'd been building a life with Anden and she hadn't bothered to clue him in on the fact that she had given him just about everything that she'd ever be willing to, that she was limited. Of course he'd thought marriage was where they'd eventually end up, and he'd waited pretty patiently while she'd disregarded his misconceptions. She noticed with a groan that even the pajamas she was wearing, a luxurious silk and lace ensemble, had been given to her by Anden himself. She stood and furiously undressed. She went to the bureau and dug to the back of one of her drawers, pulling out a carefully folded piece of cotton fabric and pulled it on hastily. It was one of Metias' old t-shirts, which she used to like to sleep in. Of course back then it had fallen to her knees, it had been a long time since actually worn it, she'd hung onto it only for sentimental value. She pulled out a pair of simpler cotton shorts and put those on as well, it seemed silly but even this small act made her breathe a small sigh of relief.
She was about to get into bed when she stepped on something small and hard; she lifted her foot. Lying on the floor was the necklace with the thin silver chain and sparkling red stone that Day had given her. She picked it up gingerly. She'd just about forgotten that she had carefully wrapped it in Metias' shirt when she'd moved here almost three years ago. Of course it would turn up again now, fate loved playing tricks with her. She clutched it in her fingers and she could feel a new wave of tears forming behind her eyes. The rush of emotion surprised June.
It wasn't as if she'd spent the past nine years, since Day had left, completely miserable. She didn't exist as a shadow of who she was. She had not been left an empty shell, mindlessly going through the motions of her life. She had been sad, it had hurt, and that hurt had sat heavily in her chest. The pain seemed to expand everyday, threatening to suffocate her, slowly, painfully, pinching off her airways. But she had realized pretty quickly that her hurt was not going to get any lighter. The pain of Metias' death had not subsided and she knew the pain of Day's departure wouldn't either. So she was faced with two choices. She could give up, lie down, and let the weight crush her. Or she could accept that from that point on, she would just be a little heavier. For the first couple of years, everything seemed to remind her of Day and it was like one punch in the gut after another. She'd look at a paper clip and wince or see a little boy on the street with blonde hair and a mischievous grin, and she'd find it difficult to swallow the lump in her throat. But then it got easier. She got up, put one foot in front of the other, took it all one day at a time just like Day had told her, and learned to carry the weight.
From that moment on she'd breathed a little easier. She'd been living her life contently. She'd appreciated the little things: dinner with Tess, running the track with Pascao, a weekend away with Anden. It sounded insignificant… but she loved those little pleasures. Now fresh grief overcame her. She knew that if Day had remembered her, if he'd stayed. She wouldn't be having this fight with Anden. She didn't like that knowledge. Her stomach felt queasy and unsettled. She didn't want to believe she was living a second rate version of her life. If she was being honest with herself it was probably the life she would have lead had she never met Day at all. It had only made sense to her that this was the life she would go on to lead when he left her for good. It had felt like a return to her natural path not a misstep. But now she was worried that she had underestimated Day's effect on her. Even their brief time together had altered her in ways that made it impossible for her to revert to this life.
June tried to shut these traitorous thoughts out. She dropped the necklace on the nightstand, and crawled into bed. It felt too big for just her. She wished Ollie were still there at the foot of the bed, warming her feet with his soft, thick, fur. She fell into a fitful sleep. A sleep that left the sheets twisted under and around her uncomfortably. June prided herself on her ability to meticulous compartmentalize her mind. There were things she kept hidden even from herself. But that night there was no hiding her true feelings. For the first time in years she dreamed of Day.