AN: Bigger than usual, but this one kind of got away on me… it's also fast because the last chapter got away on me and turned into this. I hope you enjoy.
It's nice living on a quiet street at times. Like this afternoon, with snow softly falling outside—the first of the season—and the sun trying to shine through the clouds and light up the whole yard. It was raining earlier in the day, so this is just temporary; a little dusting of white frosting our lawn furniture, our lawn, and our daughter. She's outside with Tina, showing off. Tina has a wooden practice sword, but isn't really managing to hold her own. I get the distinct feeling that Joan's trying to toughen her up—maybe so she can stand up for herself a little more at school. Well it's either that, or practice for things I'd rather not imagine, given the way they're currently grappling.
I can feel a smile at the corner of my lips. The way they're playing out there… it reminds me of the way we would dance sometimes. Well, okay, the way you would avoid my feet as I stomped around next to you with more energy than grace. Far, far more energy. I still miss you, and it's weird sometimes that it's in the little moments like this. Things I wish I could have shared with you, but never got the chance. Like watching Joan grow up. Seeing her in love—or at least committed to someone. I still wonder if you would've been able to handle 'the talk', and I still think it's funny that you probably couldn't. Prude.
I miss you, but there are times that makes me happy—like right now. I can imagine you standing beside me, arms crossed, that worried/happy look on your face. I know she would've made you so happy. I hope she does, if you know, you are actually trying to haunt me like you promised. I turn away from the window, then head to the pantry to leave out some snacks for them when they decide it's time to come back inside. They can help with dinner if they don't take too long getting cleaned up. I have a sneaking suspicion they'll take just long enough for dinner to be ready by the time they're done.
Snacks out on the bench and I return to the lounge, lying across Kristoff's lap. He gives me head-scritches like I'm a cat or something. I play along, making purring noises. We're not really watching anything on the TV, just enjoying each other's company. Another thing quiet afternoons are good for. I open my eyes again as I hear the back door. Kristoff's smiling at me, and he glances towards the clock. I've been sort of dozing for a little while then. The girls come through and I wave at them as they head straight for the stairs.
They were obviously having a conversation before they came through the door. "That way one of us winds up helping with dinner."
"And it would be nice if you could," Kristoff, half turning to face the stairs while trying not to spill me from the couch. "Or you can do the dishes afterwards, your pick."
I can hear Joan cursing—trying to curse—under her breath. Tina giggles, replying to something I couldn't hear. "Okay, fine then, throw your girlfriend under the bus… or did you forget this isn't a sleepover?"
"I…" I don't even need to see my daughter to know the exact pose she's holding. "You evil little…"
"So go and help your dad prep then. I just need to get changed before my mom gets here."
I wave my hand where they can see it. "So you're standing there, talking for my benefit, right?"
The muffled squeaks I hear… I don't know how they could have missed me lying on Kristoff's lap like that, but they did.
"Did you want to stay for dinner?"
"I'd like to, miss Bergman, but mom and I made plans for game night."
"And you didn't invite me?" Joan's mock-petulance is too good.
"Like we weren't playing games all afternoon?" Tina sounds like she's being surprisingly fair. "And anyway, you know me and mom do something fancy at the end of the month anyway. It was that movie marathon last month."
"Which you totally could've invited me over for, you know?"
It's Tina's turn to be mocking. "Yeah, because you totally wanted to watch all those rom-coms. The way you kept talking about them…"
"Hey, I said I was sorry."
"Yeah, but only after we—" that last part is muffled by somebody's hand over somebody else's mouth.
"Tink, they really don't need details." There's an edge to my daughter's voice. "And I don't want to fight here."
I sit up so I can see them. "You do need to fight sometimes, though. It's healthy to have differences."
They're both looking at me. "Did you and Elsa?"
"Sure. Maybe not loud and shouty and throwing things, but we certainly had certain differences of opinion that we couldn't resolve. We learned to accept it. It's also hard to hold a grudge when you're half-naked in the bedroom."
"Mom, too much!"
"Err… was I supposed to hear that, miss Bergman?"
Ah, the brain-mouth filter strikes again. Or rather, my severe lack of one. Too late now. I can feel a hint of colour in my cheeks. "Sorry girls. It was an effective strategy though," I pause for a moment to collect my thoughts. "And it always felt safe to discuss it afterwards. Pillow talk could be interesting like that."
"No walls?" Tina asks.
"And feeling valued if you disagree, yeah."
I can hear them whispering.
"If my time-keeping is right, you won't have time before your mother gets here, miss Belafont."
Ah, such glorious shades of pink they could put you to shame.
"I'm not trying to embarrass you, I'm just pointing out someone might be asking questions you're not ready to answer yet."
"How is your mom so smart?"
"She gets it from my other mother, I'm sure of it."
"You get changed; you go get cleaned up for dinner." I turn back to Kristoff. "I guess it's just you and me on prep then."
The girls finish making their way up the stairs, and I head into the kitchen with Kristoff. I like doing dinner prep with him, not gonna lie. Even if it's just a simple pasta bake. That's about twenty minutes of prep, some simmering, and then about fifteen minutes of actual baking for extra-melty cheese on the top. It's an old family recipe. Kristoff's family. Cara turns up to collect Tina somewhere during the baking, and then it's just a normal family dinner. Well, normal for us at any rate, with me and Kristoff assigning household tasks, Joan trying to get out of doing them because mid-terms, and then me pointing out that she can still do both.
We argue a bit over dessert, but I think we're at an impasse. She's also not wrong about the stress she's under. She hasn't yet realised that a lot of it is her own doing, however, and right now I've somehow got enough tact not to point that out. Instead I tell her that she can put some of the tasks off for a bit, but she can't ignore all of them. Or she can have less of an allowance for a couple of weeks and we can do all her tasks for her—and she's actually considering that one.
"Can I decide later?"
"Sure," I give her a look. "But you're not getting out of doing the dishes tonight."
"Fine," she grabs a dishtowel as I fill the sink. "I guess it's just desserts for trying to get Tina to help with all of it."
"Yes, I think it is—and at least you only have to dry."
"You could always tell me some more story while we work."
"I could, but I'm thinking the next part might be more sitting down, because it involves a certain incident that I regarded as the start of our sex life—don't give me that look, I'm not giving you any details. You just have to know that it happened, so you get some context to what happened after."
"Do I really want to know about after?"
"Yeah, you do," I sigh softly, remembering. "It was the afternoon Elsa showed me how to love the rain."
"Maybe you could start there?"
"I'll start earlier in the day, because I just remembered something else…"
"What?"
"Why." I wink at her.
–∞–
My phone was ringing. I blinked sleep from groggy eyes, trying to think of a thousand different reasons why Kristoff might call me up on my day off this week. The number wasn't him. It wasn't any contact I'd programmed in either. I had about another two rings to decide if it was worth waking up for. One ring. I swiped to answer.
"Good morning, miss Christian?"
I blinked again, sitting up in bed. "Who is this?"
"Rebecca Lake, from Styx & Stones Institute."
I shake my head, trying to figure it out. "Sorry, who? I think you have the wrumber nong." What?
"Not a morning person then?" I let the comment pass. I kind of have to, trying to figure this out. "You had a session with doctor Spiros last week; We're calling to confirm your session for next week, on the 19th."
"Oh…" The word gets stretched out by a massive yawn. "Umm, yeah. Yes. Yes, I'll be there." I almost hang up before remembering something important. "It's an afternoon session, right?"
"3:30, pm, miss Christian."
"Thanks…" I was about to hang up. Manners. "Uhh, bye?"
"Bye miss Christian."
I hung up a second later, flopping back onto the pillows. I wanted to go back to sleep, but I kept hearing a light rain on the windows. I threw the covers off in a huff and got up, pulling on something so I'd look decent if I had to answer the door. The mirror told me that my hair was going to swallow brushes whole this morning. I half-heartedly attacked it with a comb, and then just decided to wet it and brush that out. I used a tie to keep it back in a slightly damp ponytail. I look like a lazy college student.
But it was presentable enough, and kept me just distracted enough to not write down my next appointment with doctor Spiros while I made breakfast. I knew Elsa would scold me for it. If I told her. Head in my hands, I stared into my cereal. All of this was to help me recover. And how could I keep secrets like this when I hated Elsa keeping her own secrets. When I'd finally managed to get her to open up about her insecurities with the hair thing. I would have to tell her—and I probably deserved a bit of scolding anyway, for the mess my room had become over the past week. Work, starting therapy, and sleeping in Elsa's bed meant I'd been neglecting certain things.
The sky outside was almost black when I rinsed my dish in the sink. The rain was pounding the windows now, and part of me was a little shaky because of it. I had no idea how Elsa could love this kind of noise and darkness and shapeless kind of fear. The wind wasn't helping matters either. A large part of me wanted to curl up in a ball of blankets that could muffle all the sounds the storm was making. Another part of me was thinking how much better it would be to have Elsa with me under those blankets, keeping me calm.
And then my imagination took over, and the thoughts about things under blankets were anything but calming. Well, the ideas were not about calmness, anyway. More… feverish. Excitable. Intoxicating, even. A sort of rush I hadn't felt in too long. At least not with another person. I also knew the reason I hadn't done anything with another person for… well, months… was due to my own hang-ups. I'd even teased Elsa about it the other day, and true though it was, her comeback had kind of stung.
Not that I didn't deserve it.
A powerful gust of wind rattled the windows and I was back to the idea of hiding under the blankets. I wanted to not have the fear about—whatever it was, really. I wished Elsa could be with me, telling me what her secret was to riding out a storm like this. Then, as the rain eased, my devious mind wondered what it would be like to have her riding me. I checked the time on my phone—I didn't want to be caught out, or accidentally give my girlfriend a faceful of nakedness when she got home. I would much rather that be deliberate, and planned. Of course, me being me, that is not what I got.
Being pent up for so long, and with the storm riding behind my fears, I thought it would be fast. Very fast. It wasn't. A deep and powerful part of me wanted to enjoy this fantasy—part of it was figuring out how to make it reality, too. Enjoying it so much also meant it would take me longer. Elsa wasn't supposed to be back until after lunch, so I wasn't worried. The storm, the rain, my music… I was in a universe of sound, and suddenly felt how Elsa must have when she described the rain. Enjoying the idea of being safe, but surrounded.
A massive gust of wind rattled the windows and seemed to make the house shake. I wasn't sure, but I thought I heard something outside. The door was locked anyway—and I was too preoccupied to really care. Even the rain was a background element. Just me and my fantasies. She seemed so real, even the blush in her… oh. Shit. Elsa was right there, in my doorway, one hand still on the doorknob, the other holding her phone. She was mortified, transfixed. There was not a single excuse I could make.
The door must have slammed when she got home, and that was what had rattled. The voices I thought I heard were probably her looking for me. I hadn't answered, so she had been worried. And she was still just standing there. She looked guilty now, but intrigued. I could tell by the way her eyebrows were pitched—but I wasn't doing anything. Any more. And she still hadn't said anything.
"I think I kind of understand the rain thing now, because for a moment it was like a universe of sound and I was the middle of it all and it felt good, but it's still scary and the wind is rattling things and maybe I'm confusing things, and now you're here and I really didn't want you seeing me like this and I mean, yes, actually, one day, but not exactly this, I mean I'd let you see and we'd do things and then I want to see you and now you're here and wearing clothes and this doesn't feel right but you aren't saying anything and I feel like I broke your brain or something and I can't stop talking because I'm so nervous and anyway this for the therapy thing or because of the therapy and I'm all twisty inside and I needed something to really relax and Elsa please say something because I think I'm about to have a panic attack and I'm just buck naked right in front of you and—"
A blanket was suddenly on top of me. She smiled, her blush never fading. "I think perhaps you need five minutes—and do not want me watching."
"It was… I was… uhh, more than… but now, not you, but kinda gone and gah!" I pulled the blanket over my head. "Blargh… my words—what was I even? I need to calm—"
"Hey, Anna," Elsa pulled the blanket back so she could see my face. And kiss my cheek. "It is okay. I will make us some sandwiches while you tidy." She waved her hand in a non-committal gesture. "You do not have to talk about."
It took longer than five minutes, but I cleaned up, put things away, and got dressed again. My hair remained a tangled mess, but I was okay with that, just pulling it into a rough ponytail. The rain continued to pound on the roof, and I was starting to worry about flooding. Downstairs and I found Elsa had made a decent BLT, even if the bacon was a little burnt. We had discovered that she was actually okay with things that did not, in fact, involve cooking. We sat at the table, eating in what seemed to be an awkward silence. I could feel my cheeks burning, but I really didn't want to say anything.
"You say the therapy is making you nervous?" She looked at me, a concerned frown covering her face. "It has been a week."
"They called this morning, to remind me of my next session," I felt the colour leaving my cheeks. It didn't help, because Elsa only grew more concerned.
"You look like you are worrying even more now. If it is so bad we can look for alternatives—you have helped me with so much recently."
"Elsa, we both know I need to do this. It just scares me. More than I want to admit," I looked away, my half-eaten BLT better for holding my attention. "I don't want to re-live it. Again." I had to look back up, lock eyes with Elsa. "You read what I wrote, right?"
"No," Elsa shook her head firmly. "I am keeping it safe, for you. You said you were afraid of me reading it. Or not reading it. I am not sure I want to read it."
Lightning split the sky as I took another bite of my BLT, stalling for time. The rumbling thunder made me jump. For some reason Elsa was smiling.
"Pillows. Blankets. Attic. I have special plan for us now."
Distant thunder echoed across town. I wolfed down the last couple of bites of my BLT, then hurried back upstairs. Elsa ducked into her room, pulling a blanket from her bed and taking her bottom pillow. I took the blanket she had covered me with from my room, then both my pillows.
In the attic the sound of the rain was almost deafening. My hand found Elsa's and squeezed tight. She pulled me close, into a tight hug. We lay our blankets beneath the window, then crawled under them. Honestly, I was almost cowering under mine. Suddenly I was under two blankets, and felt like someone was using me as the little spoon. Elsa whispered in my ear.
"You do not mind being small spoon for little while?"
It was hard to hear her over the rain, but I nodded anyway. Then I whispered back, in case she hadn't felt me nodding. "I… I kind of like this. With you."
She was stroking my hair, and the blankets muffled the pounding rain somewhat. I felt warm. I was happy. And for some reason I was crying. I felt Elsa's chin against my shoulder, and her breath against my cheek. "It is safe in here, with me." She kissed me on the cheek. "And it is okay to be scared."
"Elsa, I don't even know what I'm scared of." Her hands wrapped around me as I spoke. "It's not even the rain, really. Or the therapy."
"Are you scared now?"
I nodded.
"Afraid that I might hurt you?"
I shook my head, hard. "Never!" The odd tear still rolled down my cheek.
"Is it this rainstorm?"
I shook my head, then nodded, then shook my head again. "A little?"
"But that is not enough to scare your tears out," I rolled over so she could see my face. With a gentle finger she began to wipe away my tears. "It is not me that scares you, and not really the rain. Perhaps the blankets?"
I just stared at her. I knew what she was trying to do, because it was my trick.
"So not blankets, and probably not pillows either," she smiled, and we kissed. "Perhaps it is the therapy."
I shook my head out of instinct. It was weird, but it wasn't the therapy itself I was afraid of. Elsa was looking at me with a combination of concern and consternation.
"Anniken…" she was looking so intently into my eyes, searching for something. "Are you afraid of yourself?"
Hitting the nail on the head. I wished I had the words to explain how I felt. "I wish you had read my note. I could just point at the line I wrote."
"You can tell me, Anniken, I know you can. I will not judge for this. I can turn around if that makes it easier."
"No," I let out a heavy breath, feeling suddenly sick. "I have to look you in the eye; tell you the kind of monster I could have been."
"If you were really monster, I would not be loving you now."
That did not help my sudden hyperventilating. Nor did having her attempt to hug me. I wanted to feel the cold and distance when I spoke. During the heart of the storm felt like the perfect time for such a horrific revelation. I still felt sick, and like the world around me would crumble with every word I spoke. But I still had to say it. I had to tell her. I had, however, forgotten one very important detail.
"When I—when Hans fought, and I… I tried to kill myself. To make him watch. It was—"
"Out of spite. And you are afraid I could not love if you had done something like that."
"Wait, what?" I stared into those crystal blue eyes. "When did I…?"
She laughed, a little nervously. "You maybe forget our first kiss. Where you told us everything?"
All the tension was gone, the feeling of sickness. "And now I feel like an idiot."
"Yes, but you are my idiot."
"I think you said that then too." In fact, I remembered it quite distinctly. Along with the kiss.
"This is more than that. It is not what you might be having troubles with. I will say the words: I forgive you, my Anniken. But I cannot make you forgive yourself."
"There is a large part of me that thinks I shouldn't, right now." I didn't want to admit that I meant almost all of me.
"And I think that is the part therapy will be helping most."
"I hope so."
She pulled me close, under the blankets. "Can we cuddle longer, playing and hide-and-seek from rain?"
I laughed, shuffling around so I could kiss her. "Of course. Maybe one day I'll like it like you."
"But for now you'll hide away, safe in my arms?"
We kissed again. "Always."
