Maura sat at the dining table staring down her phone. It was time to call her mother.
They had been in touch sporadically since the hit-and-run. Constance had taken a respite in the French countryside after being released from the hospital, and returned to her home in Paris shortly thereafter. Maura tried to call every few weeks to check in, but often she got voicemail or her mother was so engrossed in her latest project that Maura didn't have time to share the drama of her own life. Not that she especially wanted to. Maura was worried about how her mother would feel to learn that she had found her birth mother and tried to reconnect. And what would she say if she knew Maura had volunteered a non-essential organ for her dying biological half-sister who wanted nothing to do with her? Or that she had been stupid enough to date a serial killer, and not even realize it? It was embarrassing, and Maura had decided that now that those ordeals were over, Constance had no need to hear of them. But she needed to know she was going to be a grandmother.
Maura tried out a few options for breaking the news in her head. Hello, Mother. I have some news. I'm having a baby. Well, Jane is having a baby. We're having a baby. Awkward. She tried again. Would you like to come visit in five months? You'll need to stay in the guest house with Angela, because we're turning the guest room into a nursery. Roundabout. Maura considered waiting, and just sending an announcement when the baby arrived.
Maura was about to put off the task for another day when Jane strolled in, looking for a snack. She had just finished her workout and droplets of sweat had formed on her lower back. "Do we have any potato chips? Ooh, or Cheetos?" She opened up the pantry and shuffled around its contents. "I need something salty."
"Those items are referred to as 'junk food' because they have a high calorie content and minimal nutritional value. In my estimation, 'junk' is a more appropriate term, as many of the ingredients cannot be classified as 'food'."
"Is that a 'no'?" Jane poked her head out from behind the pantry door and smirked at Maura.
"There are some bananas on the counter, if you're looking to replenish your electrolytes."
"Thank you, Doctor." Jane moved to the fridge instead, and found something preferable, "Pickles!" She brought the entire jar to the table and sat, digging her fingers in. "This is good, right? Electrolytes and a vegetable serving." She winked at Maura as she crunched down. Mouth full now, she nodded toward the phone. "What'cha doin'?"
"Nothing, I—" Maura moved the phone away from herself and sighed. "I was thinking about calling my mother."
Jane leaned back in her chair and sucked juice off the pickle before it could drip onto her chest. "How is good ol' Constance these days?" The last of the pickle went in. "Is she as excited as Ma is to be a gramma?" Jane leaned forward again and fished another pickle out of the jar. "They'll have to pick names, I guess. Grammie, Gramma, Nana... I bet Constance will be Grandmother," she finished with a snooty tone.
Maura's forced smile was less enthusiasm than Jane expected. Jane let the selected pickle fall back into the jar. Her eyes narrowed and her chin dropped. "You haven't told her yet, have you?" Maura wouldn't make eye contact. Jane gasped, "Why not?! Maura, you have to tell her!" Jane's arms reached out wide, palms up. "What are you going to do, wait until she comes to visit, then hand her the baby and say, 'Oh by the way, my best friend moved in and we're raising her baby together. Surprise!'"
"Do you think that would work?"
"Maura."
Maura's voice was high now, "I don't know what to say, Jane! Help!"
"Ok, ok. Settle down. It's going to be fine." Jane placed her hand on Maura's forearm. "You just say," Jane's eyes searched the ceiling for answers. "Tell her... Tell her the truth: I got knocked up and you came to my rescue."
Maura relaxed a little bit. That wasn't exactly how she saw their situation, but it was sweet of Jane to say.
After a few moments of quiet, Jane bit her lip. "Are you worried about how she'll react? Because it's me? And not... ya know... a real family?"
Maura's heart broke. So much insecurity was packed into those last three words. Maybe Jane would always feel like she wasn't good enough, no matter how much Maura tried to reassure her. Her hand found Jane's. "I'll make her understand."
Jane's head tilted with a grateful smile. "Do you want me here while you talk to her?"
Maura sighed and looked at the dreaded phone. "No, I can do it. I just need to get it over with."
Jane stood and put the pickle jar away. "Good, because I need a shower." She dragged her hand over Maura's shoulders before leaving. Maura's eyes closed as she took a deep breath, storing away the touch for strength in the conversation to come. Even fleeting grazes from Jane, like this, had begun to affect Maura profoundly. Jane's touch was what Maura imagined magic to be like. Or a psychotropic substance.
Sometimes it felt like Jane had become an addiction. Maura would come up with excuses to visit the bullpen, and once she was there she would always be thinking of how to work in a nonchalant, friendly, casual touch. A pat on the arm, a swat to the elbow, a hand on the shoulder. Any form of contact would satisfy this need, she was sure. And on the too rare occasions when contact was made, it only made her hungry for more.
It wasn't ethical, Maura knew, to be using Jane like this, for her own satisfaction. To objectify her, reducing her to silky ebony curls that begged to be fondled, or tight trapezius muscles that only Maura's thumbs could relax. Low hips that widened to accommodate their growing child. A strong, square jaw whose corners could only be properly examined with the sensitive nerve endings in Maura's lips. No, it wasn't right, and Jane would be uncomfortable if she knew these thoughts were anchored in Maura's brain while they were talking about real things, normal things, like murder weapons or cause of death. Things one could say aloud.
It got worse at home. Out of public view, there was no sense of propriety and no distracting lab results to stop Maura from testing the waters, sitting an inch closer than she should or reaching out for no reason besides that she couldn't not. Sometimes Jane didn't mind or even welcomed the touch. If circumstances were exactly right, all the correct elements in place, when Maura offered her fingers to Jane's shoulders, Jane's head would roll forward, her eyes would close, and a soft moan would rumble from her throat. Other times, for whatever reason, Maura would be rejected, shrugged off. Denied.
Perhaps if she had been a better scientist, Maura could have identified the variables that determined Jane's response. She could have constructed the algorithm to know when it was ok to try, to request. To touch. Even with her extensive training in observation, data collection, and analysis, Maura couldn't, for the life of her, solve this mystery that was Jane. Every moment with Jane was paramount, surpassing anything that came before and making her forget even the notion of collecting data. She didn't know whether she was rebuffed more or less often than she was embraced, she just knew there was a risk of breaking, and the euphoria of connection was worth that risk.
Maura learned ways to let Jane take the lead, tacitly inviting contact without actually requesting it. She'd sit first, leaving room for Jane to decide how close she wanted to be, whether she wanted to lie on the sofa with her feet in Maura's lap, sit shoulder-to-shoulder with Maura, or settle miles away at the other end. It was a technique Maura had developed years earlier, when she learned that Jane preferred to be in control. Maura would create an opportunity and wait to see if Jane took it. Maura believed that if she was subtle enough to plant the idea without Jane realizing the seed was Maura's, Jane was more likely to let it blossom. And sometimes, the best times, Jane would come up with the idea all on her own.
So what Jane saw as Maura's good deed, rescuing her when she needed a friend, Maura saw as selfish. It was selfish to take Jane so fully into her home and her life, to make herself part of Jane's family. It was selfish to think of Jane as more than the best friend she believed herself to be and to manipulate her into giving more than she wanted to give. If there was any shame to be had, it was Maura's, for abusing their friendship for her own pleasure.
But her mother didn't need to know that. Constance simply needed to know that Jane was having a baby and Maura was adopting it. That this baby would be her family, at least as much as Maura was. If Constance embraced her role as grandmother, that would be wonderful. If not... well, if not, then Maura would be fine. She always had been before. She would probably get voicemail anyway.
Maura dialed. Constance picked up.
"Maura, darling, how wonderful to hear from you! And what auspicious timing; your father just stepped out for a stroll."
"Hello, Mother, I hope everything is well..."
"Indeed, I'm working on a study on the plight of the—"
"We're having a baby."
There was a pause. "Pardon me?"
"Jane. Jane is having a baby. I'm going to adopt it. We're going to be parents together." Maura was breathing heavily and speaking very quickly. She caught her breath and repeated, "We're having a baby."
More silence on Constance's end.
"Mother? I'm sorry, I know this is sudden—"
"Sweetheart, does Jane know you're in love with her?"
"I— I'm not— No." Maura's forehead rested in her free hand.
"And yet you're starting a family together."
"We're just friends, Mother."
"I see." Constance collected her thoughts. "I know I haven't been the best mother to you. But I'd like to try to be a good grandmother. I just don't want to see you hurt, darling, and I'm afraid you're setting yourself up for that. Have you tried telling Jane how you feel?"
"It's not that simple, I can't just... say it."
"Why not?"
"She has a lot to deal with right now, with the baby and... What if she doesn't want me?"
"She's chosen you to be the mother of her child, darling. She wants you."
"What if she doesn't want me?"
"I don't know, Maura. Are you prepared to live the rest of your life not knowing?"
"I've never been happier than right now, with her."
"Could you be even happier, if she loves you too?"
Maura began to cry. "I can't lose her."
"You need to tell her, sweetheart."
"I can't, Mother. Not yet. Not now."