Authors Note: I acknowledge I have no ownership rights to Beverly Hills 90210 characters or canon, the rest well yeah that's mine.
Chapter Three: Christmas
My uncle had gone to collect them from the airport, it left me to wait here for their arrival leaving me a nervous wreck. My grandmothers were giving me concerned eyes worried that I might be getting too worked up, it was a look I had grown familiar with from my observers since June- they had taken to closely watching me. They were my lifesavers. When at five weeks post-delivery the protein levels in my urine had returned to normal they had both been ecstatic, not least because it meant I was cleared to travel for the anniversary party. It also meant that I was one step closer to being able to tell their children about Art. Though even now with their joy that it was finally time to come clean to my parents, they were still concerned. Since going off the medication my blood pressure was still requiring aspirin daily as it had yet to fall enough to be within the normal range and stress was still to be avoided as much as possible. It was a laughable goal today especially considering what I was about to do. My grandmothers knew it but it didn't stop them fretting.
As I heard the car pull into the driveway I took a deep breath and then did one final sweep of the room. Nothing of Art's was on display except for the only needed item the baby monitor, it was currently quiet due to my sleeping little man upstairs. I tried as best as I could to hide it behind a Santa figurine and book on the end table that was beside my armchair. If all went to plan I could get through my disclosure before any cry would cause its location to be exposed.
After the foyer greetings and the shedding of winter apparel, we moved into the lounge room. I went back to my chair and Brandon moved to sit on the floor next to me, giving me his hand to hold. My parents had the couch along with my grandma's and my grandpa had taken the twin armchair directly across from me. My uncle had quickly excused himself under the guise of making everyone coffee and tea. We had tried to break the ice with a small chat about their flight and tomorrow's Christmas Day schedule but it was stifled and awkward at best. I took a deep breath and squeezed my brother's hand, it was time.
"Brenda, are you okay? You are looking very pale even for you."
"I'm fine Mum but I do have something to tell you and Daddy." Their expressions quickly transformed to their patent worried Brenda look, Brandon had never earned a look of his own. "It's going to be hard to get through but I ask for you to please not interrupt until I'm finished. It's going to be stressful enough as it is." They both grabbed the other's hand.
"Jim, son when Brenda says this is going to be stressful on her I want you to be aware that each of us wants to reduce that as much as possible. She's finally having a good run with her blood pressure. We do not want to see that ruined by today." My Father who had turned to face his mother in her chastising tone immediately met my eyes on hearing the medical term, I attempted a weak smile and then began.
Starting at the beginning I spared the specific details of that act that had occurred on the last Saturday of January. Though I did advise them that an intimacy had been shared between Dylan and me that night, but avoided disclosing that it had been in my room in our Beverly Hills home. On seeing my Dad's free hand form a fist I silently congratulated myself on avoiding the more obvious word I had used with him in sophomore year, and then for the first time thanked my illness for allowing me to skip over the Jim Walsh lecture that I receive at any reference of me holding anything more than hands with Dylan. Regardless that I had been eighteen at the time my father would still always maintain this double standard between Brandon and me, he could have multiple partners but I was not even allowed one. Though maybe it would be more accurate to say I would never be allowed Dylan as that one.
Unpacking my symptoms that began a few weeks later, I emphasised that I had believed that the stress of Dylan's choosing on the night of Jack's party had been the cause along with finding out about the summer. I explained that it wouldn't be until I fainted leaving the hospital at the end of March that I'd find out that eight weeks previously our protection that night had not worked. Their desire to both step in then was clear, and if it wasn't for Grandma Walsh leaning over and tapping my parents' joined hands, and then giving them a firm stare I don't think either would have been able to contain themselves. In my family, though you don't mess with the original Mrs Walsh, she was a tough matriarch and had both her grown sons still firmly under her thumb.
Trying to maintain control and prevent any further potential interruptions I unpacked my reasoning for keeping Dylan in the dark and how I felt that it would be best to do the same with them to start with until my second trimester. With my lack of weight gain due to my constant nausea, I had wanted to make it to twelve weeks feeling I'd be more secure in my pregnancy by then. I intended that when I reached that point all three of them would be taken out of the dark, but Dylan's life never settled, and my pregnancy even having entered the second trimester never became a clear certainty. I didn't want to risk telling them and him finding out, and more than anything when I had reached that stage I just wanted to get through that horrible senior year- prom, graduation and then I just needed a break to heal a little from everything. The events of the year were taking their toll and I needed a temporary respite before diving into another whirlwind of drama.
The summer away at school was supposed to settle everything down and then I had planned to inform them and Dylan, but I got sick. At twenty-one weeks I had been diagnosed with preeclampsia and that along with my still low weight had placed me in a high-risk category. Stress became something I needed to avoid as it could be life-threatening for me and my baby, and plane travel was no longer an option. The decision was made that telling anyone then would be too much of a risk, though it was still the plan once it stabilised that all parties would be informed. The remainder of my pregnancy was a mix of taking it easy and eventually mandated bed rest, the latter under my grandparents' care. Though even with their amazing support their great-grandson needed to be delivered three and a half weeks early. I spared the details of that hospital scene, it was a moment that was only shared between my brothers and me. They had rushed to my side on hearing that I was to be induced the next day. No one in that room needed to hear of the fear of that event, the details I had kept even away from my grandparents. My brother put his head on my knee, resting a little closer reassuring himself that all the doctors listed risks never eventuated.
Reaching into the book that sat beside me I pulled out pictures and introduced them to Arthur Jack McKay, his first name after Grandpa Walsh. Deciding it best to leave out the names subtle homage to Dylan's and my first well not date as Brandon was there, but our first night out that the name also raised for me; Steve's bizarre belief that it was chosen for its connection more specifically to Art's father through a comic book character was also left unsaid. It was a belief he had adopted once. I advised him after reading a baby name book that Dylan's name meant son of the sea due to the Welsh god who bore the same one. Steve's crazy comic book logic would not go down well at this moment, especially with my father who on principle was pleased with the connection to his late father and the Walsh family. That may be diluted if he felt all three names also were specifically tied to Art's paternal line, leaving only his first as then a water-down maternal link.
My preeclampsia turning into postpartum preeclampsia following the birth was then gone over. Explaining that the condition was due in part to the seriousness of the illness during my pregnancy as well as being under the age of twenty making me at greater risk for its development. Their looks of concern were evident so I tried to reassure them that the condition was under control now which was a good sign, and my Doctor was hopeful that my blood pressure would settle into the normal range in the coming weeks. Both my parents were holding onto the pictures closely and appeared shell-shocked overall. Though even with how upset they probably were to be left out of significant milestones my father's first question, asking about if there were any long-term risk factors to my health with postpartum preeclampsia, was a true sign that while disappointed in me for so much they loved me dearly.
My Mother was able to take my unpacking the potential for brain, liver, and kidney damage if left untreated but on hearing the term stroke she burst into tears. Brandon squeezed my hand tighter. As I was reassuring them that I was doing well and that my Doctor would have never allowed the flights six weeks ago for the anniversary party if I hadn't been, I was interrupted by a sound on the monitor coming through. My son was up. I immediately excused myself and went to my crying little man upstairs.
On seeing me he calmed down and after a quick diaper change, I brought him downstairs to meet his grandparents. On walking into the room I spoke to my son.
"Art you ready to meet Grandma and Grandpa?" I looked at my Mother. "Would you like to hold him?" Different tears were now falling from her eyes than the ones when I had left the room and through them, she beamed at my little bundle, then held out her arms. When he was settled in with his grandma and under the watchful eye of his grandpa I moved back to the chair.
"Oh Brenda, he is beautiful. He has your eye colour."
I laugh, "Yes but that appears to be the only look in that my genetics got. He is looking more and more like a little Dylan every day."
"He doesn't know yet?"
"No Dad. Though I won't ask you to lie to him." Taking a deep breath, "Art and I are planning on coming back to LA with you. Dylan was never supposed to be kept in the dark this long, and with me nearly back to normal, the semester over and Art at an age where I'm comfortable with him travelling, it's time."
"Please say that it means you will be moving back?"
"Yes Mum, I won't deny Dylan any more time with his son. I have been accepted into CU and Art has a place in the campus daycare all lined up."
"You'll live with us." It was the first firm tone my Dad had used with me throughout this conversation.
"Dad, is that a statement or a question?"
"I just don't want you moving in with Dylan. He has a right to know his son but the last eighteen months hopefully have opened your eyes to the fact that he is just not good enough for you." Great, we were back to this.
Projecting that this wasn't open for discussion I tried to be firm, calm and clear with my tone. "Dad we aren't getting back together, we will however be co-parenting Art. That is if Dylan wants to be involved."
"Brenda, maybe you should wait to tell him when you are completely back to normal. Dylan could react badly, and well if your Doctor wants you to avoid stress that may not be possible. You have always been very sensitive to Dylan's feelings." I love my Mum but she was once again aiding my Dad by even putting temporary blocks between Dylan and me. It wasn't needed.
"Mum, it's time. I start at CU the second week of January and it could be weeks before my blood pressure returns to normal. I can't hide Art for that long and in fairness I think if I tried it would be more stressful. But above all else I want Dylan and Art to know each other."
My grandma intervened then by sharing stories of Art's first few months, the matriarch effectively closing the book on that conversation for the rest of the day.
Dylan called me that night to wish me a Merry Christmas Eve and after chatting for a bit he asked. "Move back?" His tone held a new longing, I assume due the holiday season.
"What are your plans for New Year's Eve?"
His response was full of a jovial hopeful optimism. "Are you avoiding the question or are you making me an offer I will never refuse?"
Trying to not get his hopes up and think that I was offering more than I was, I maintained a neutral but nice tone. "Neither. I'm going to fly back with my parents. I'd like to see you. Will you be around or are you spending New Year's in Baja?"
His response was immediate, "If you'll be here, I'll be here." His tone then became shy, "If you want I could make a reservation at the French place you like, we could welcome in 1994 together?"
I close my eyes in annoyance at myself, this is what I was trying to avoid. "No thank you. I was thinking more like I could come over to your place on the thirty-first during the day. I land that morning, and well I doubt I will be awake at midnight. Does that sound okay?"
If he was disappointed he didn't indicate it, "That sounds perfect." Down the phone line, I heard the distant knock on Dylan's door. I could hear him shuffle about and begin to walk. "Bren sorry there's a woman and a young girl at my door, they probably have the wrong house. Could you hold on for a second while I see what they want?"
I look at our son who is currently nursing and would need to be burped and moved onto the other breast soon. "No, I'll let you go, I better run anyway lots to do here."
His tone now was one of disappointment, "Bren?"
"Yeah."
"Your trip will be longer than a few hours right?"
I sighed, it was Christmas and I wanted to be as honest as possible. "I start at California University in January."
"Seriously?" The excitement and smile that was on his face sounded through in his voice. The people at his door knocked again.
"You should get that. Merry Christmas Dylan."
He sounded a little more at peace, calm in a way I hadn't heard in nearly two years. "Merry Christmas Bab…Bren."
She was moving back, coming home, and she wanted to see me in my house alone. She wanted to see me as soon as she landed, not even wanting to wait a day. Maybe she was finally willing to try again, forgive me. Nothing else I could think of would require an immediate visit. It was the best Christmas present I had ever received.
As I walked to the door I had a proper smile on my face, not the fake one I had been wearing all week, the one masking my loneliness from missing her. Seven sleeps that's all I had to wait. Little did I know behind that door would be a family, my family, who would fill those seven days by letting me get to know them. Maybe I had finally left Dante's circles behind.