I'm re entering my warriors arc. The edgy cats are sucking me back in. Please help.
Uh, anyways! Another flashback chapter because idk I felt like it!
Song: dance in the dark by au/ra!
Enjoy!
Chapter 103
Dance In The Dark
Clara vomited her breakfast burrito into the pristine toilet bowl. She squeezed her eyes as shut as they could go. She hated the sight of throw-up.
William held her springy curls out of her face, rubbing her back soothingly. "Are you done?"
"Think so," she mumbled, sitting against the wall and holding her forehead. "Must've had bad eggs in it 'r something."
He flushed the toilet and sat down with a comforting arm around her. "Are you sure it's not something else? This is the second time this week, and nobody who lives near us is sick. I ate the same thing, and I feel fine."
"'M sure. I've just got a weak stomach, that's all. I'll stay home from work today."
"Do you want me to stay with you?"
She rolled her eyes. "I'm not a child, I think I'll be fine."
"I'll pick up some chicken noodle soup from the store, okay?" He kissed her quick on the cheek and stood up, grabbing his keys off the hook just outside the bathroom. "Love you."
"Love you too."
He left the apartment, locking the door, and she stood up with a smile. How lucky was she to have such a caring boyfriend?
Clara left the room and buried herself in a warm, squishy mountain of blankets in front of the television, flicking the channel to The Simpsons. After a few hours, her stomach began to yowl with hunger. Usually when she had a stomach bug her appetite was null, but she felt she could eat a whole barn of horses. Still, she didn't make anything for fear of it coming back up and continued to watch television.
After a while, her phone began to ring. She wriggled out of the mound and yanked the phone off the reciever. "Hello?"
"Hey Clar-bear!"
"Hey Kitty-Kat." She grinned, winding the cord around her finger. "What's up?"
"It's lunch break at the studio. Where'd you go? The girls miss you." Shrieks of little girls and the squeaking of ballet shoes could be heard in the background.
"Stomach bug again. I think it's just the crummy apartment burritos."
"Are you sure? I've seen Will eat like a zillion of those, and he's fi—Marley! Get off the barré! This is not a gymnastics class!"
"Katy, I've seen Will eat a bucket of garden soil and be fine. I just have a sensitive stomach."
The phone went silent except for the murmur of kids in the background. Then Katy spoke, quietly this time. "Do you think you're—"
"No! No, I'm not. It's just a stupid bug. I probably caught it from one of the girls. You've seen how bad they are at washing their hands."
"They're all here today though, and super energetic." A crash rocketed out of the speaker. "A little too energetic, maybe—MARLEY! PAYTON! WHAT DID I JUST SAY?!"
"Well, whatever. I could've caught it anywhere."
"Do you want to check, though? Just to be safe? They have some tests at the corner store down the street for a few bucks."
Clara sighed. "Fine. But I'm just sick, that's all."
"Whatever you say…FLEUR! Watch those scissors! Don't touch that cord! Marley, what are you doing with that—"
There was a crackle of static, and the phone went silent. Sighing, she hung the phone back up, glancing in the mirror. She wore a baby-pink tank top and ratty leggings with leftover makeup smeared under her eyes—not great, but the store was really close. Throwing on a brown velour jacket she'd stolen from Katy and beat-up Converse, she stuffed a couple dollars in her pocket just in case. She took the elevator to the ground floor and headed down the street, the fresh June air breathing some energy back into her.
Clara entered the store, void of people except a goth woman typing at the counter and an elderly lady sitting through the candy section, and breathed out a sigh of relief at not having to suffer through buying a test in front of someone she knew. She grabbed one from the bowl beside the skin creams and tampons and paid for it at the counter, where the woman didn't even blink as she rang it up.
She headed back to the apartment and sat at the couch, staring at it like a ticking time bomb. Okay. You know how to use this. Just go take it. You're ill, that's all. Nothing to worry about.
Clara took a deep breath and went into the bathroom to take the test.
~lll~
"There you are! Look, look, I made you soup." William held up a steaming bowl with temptingly bubbling broth and noodles swimming in it. He looked at her expectantly, like a dog who'd just done a trick and was now waiting for its reward. Well, he'd never been very good at reading her expressions.
"Will, can you promise not to hate me?" Her voice shook. Am I going to faint?
His brow creased in concern. "Yes, of course I won't. What's the matter?"
"Okay." Okay. "I'm pregnant."
He stared at her, unblinking, as if he was trying to process it. "Oh."
"Oh?"
"Yes, oh." William sighed, tapping his nails against the granite countertops. "I was sort of thinking that's what happened."
"Well, what do you think I should do about it?" She hugged herself, wishing she'd just disappear. This was all her fault. She'd done horrible selfish things before she was supposed to, and now she was pregnant as some sort of cruel divine punishment.
"The way I see it, we have two options. We get rid of it, or we keep it."
"I know that. Which do I pick?"
He shrugged. "That's not really my decision, is it?"
"Oh my God." She fell down on the couch, wrapping a silky quilt around her, pressing her hand to her temples. "My parents are going to disown me."
"Let them. You've got your own place. You're an adult."
"Barely. We graduated less than a year ago, and we're just scraping by. How are we supposed to manage jobs, an apartment, college, and a child on top of that?"
"Well, my parents would be happy to let us move back in. I'm sure Henry or Katy could take the kid when we're working, too. And there's always daycare."
"I know. And it's not like I don't want kids, it's just…it seems so early, you know? We only just stopped being kids, and now we've got to raise one?" Clara had always pictured herself with a family. They'd live in a two-story suburban house with a backyard and maybe a dog, with a sweet and funny husband grilling hot dogs on the barbecue and kids playing in the sprinklers. Maybe she'd get her degree, stay home when the kids were little, and then get a nice, quiet job in an old folk's home. She'd like three or four children, at least one of each gender, and to live in a nice neighbourhood where they could make friends their age. But for any of that to happen, they'd need money and time and experience and right now they have none.
"It's too early," she said finally, regretfully. "We can't do it right now. I'm sorry."
William didn't say anything for a moment, then walked over to the couch and bent down, looking her straight in the eyes. "This is because of your parents, isn't it? It's because you're afraid of what your parents will think?"
Clara opened her mouth. "I didn't—"
"Oh, sweetheart, I understand. You should've told me right from the start. I completely understand where you're coming from. You know your parents will hurt you, and they'll spread rumours when you tell them, and they'll hate you and me and the child forever."
"I don't know that they will."
"But they're such awful parents, right? They're horrible, abusive, manipulative people, right?"
"Oh, come on, Will, they're not that bad. It's not like my dad's going to pull up and tear you away from me and beat you to a pulp just 'cause I'm having a baby." She rolled her eyes at him. He'd met her parents countless times, he knew how kind and generous they were.
"He's not?" William frowned. "Well, whatever is the problem? If nobody's stopping us, why don't we just have the kid? You said it yourself, your dad isn't going to kill me if we tell him. And they won't disown you for doing stuff before marriage."
"They won't? I don't remember saying that." She tried to recount the conversation, but she really hadn't been paying attention enough. Stupid, stupid!
"You did, but that's alright to forget. Come on, Clary, would it really be so bad?" He took one of her curls between his fingers, wound it around like a ring. His eyes were like melted metal, cool and inviting, his expression open and hopeful.
"Okay." She exhaled, smiling a little at the look of relieved joy on William's face. She knew she should be giddy with excitement, but now she just felt a pit of doubt in her stomach. Would they really do all of the things he'd said? Did he know a different side of her parents she'd been blinded to?
But looking into her boyfriend's eyes, she knew that no matter what her parents said, at least she'd have someone on her side.
~lll~
The baby screamed in her arms as she cradled it, exhausted. She rocked it back and forth until its cries quieted.
"So tiny," Katy marvelled, peering at the infant in her arms. "Eight months, right?"
Clara nodded. "Yes, born December first. We had to wait a while to get out of the hospital." The baby was a fragile little thing, born two months too early, and she'd had to take it to the preemie ward. William had assured her that with their genetics, their son would grow into a massive beanstalk of a man, perhaps even rivalling his father.
"What is it?" Henry ventured. "The, uh, the gender." He'd been out of town for the birth taking a variety of impressive business courses, something he'd apologized numerous times for.
"Boy," Clara beamed. She'd been hoping for a boy, a big brother to protect any little siblings that came along the way.
Henry asked to hold the baby, and Clara passed him the bundle. "So you named him Michael? It was Michael or Julie, right?"
William stroked the soft brown fuzz on the baby's head, and Clara smiled at the display of gentleness he so rarely let show. "Yes, and we've picked Terrence for his middle name, after my father." He'd gotten a call from his little brother a couple months back and learned that his father had passed away due to heart problems. He'd apparently been close to his father, despite the abuse he'd confided to her about in an uncommon show of vulnerability.
"Michael Terrence Afton," Katy mused. "That's got a ring to it."
"Speaking of rings…" Clara grinned mischievously, and flashed her silver ring with a salmon-pink opal inside, her birthstone. Henry and Katy both let out a gasp, and Katy squealed so loudly she thought Henry's glasses would shatter. William looked deeply pained, but said nothing.
"Wow, I think you soothed the baby," Henry noted, astonished.
"Ehmagawd, Clar! Why didn't you tell meeee?!"
"I wanted it to be a surprise," she laughed as Katy hugged her. "We might not have the wedding for a while, since we're so tight on cash." They'd had to leave their apartment, moving into Hurricane's more-than-sketchy trailer park. They'd picked out one next to a safe-seeming pair of sisters a bit older than them. They were taking care of two boys, a five-year-old with scruffy white-blond hair named Garrett and a baby a few months older than Michael named Jeremy, so hopefully he'd have a friend.
"Well, I'm happy for you both." Henry said, looking like a proud dad. "And Michael is so adorable."
"Yeah when he's asleep," William muttered, gesturing to the heavy bags under his eyes. "He refuses to sleep unless he's on top of one of us."
"He prefers William." Clara whispered.
"Unfortunately."
"Awwww," the other two cooed.
"It is not awwww."
"So-rry." Henry checked his watch, carefully passing the baby back to Clara. "Will, we should get going. We've got to be at Saffron in an hour for another course."
"Nerd," William said affectionately, earning him a shove from his friend.
"You're going too, you pumpkin-face."
He laughed. "What does that even mean?"
"It means you're a pumpkin-face, pumpkin-face."
Katy waved enthusiastically. "Make good choices."
"You know it. Bye!" They ran out the door, with Michael immediately beginning to bawl the moment his father left the room.
~lll~
William doodled little flowers in the corners of his notebook, thick vibes trailing through the margins and looping out of holes. The smartly dressed woman at the front drew with screechy chalk on the massive blackboard, talking about advertising and marketing and all sorts of stuff. He was supposed to be taking notes, like Henry was, but it was far too much work and he'd rather daydream about stuff. It wasn't like he was paying, anyways. Henry's parents had it covered and William could always copy the information off his friend later.
His current favourite thing to fantasize about? Owning a restaurant.
Clara and him had been ordering more and more takeout recently, and the amount of money those owners must be raking in was ridiculous. Especially family establishments. They could charge ludicrous prices and still make thousands. And with his brain and Henry's—uh, brain, also—he was certain they could make one work and roll in the cash.
"Class dismissed! Make sure you review your notes from this lecture, we'll be having a test this Friday!"
William and Henry made their way through the bottleneck of people, stopping beside a cart of potted plants from the gardening club to talk.
"Henry."
"William."
"We should start a business."
"Yes!" Henry clapped his hands together. "Exactly what I was thinking. What should it be?"
"Restaurant."
"Love it." Then he frowned, taking a quick sip from his thermos of tea. "But you're a terrible chef."
"Ouch." He pretended to be wounded. "Whatever. We can just hire people. Okay, so I want it to be a family restaurant, probably marketed towards kids. And it'll work out 'cause I've got Mike now, so I'll look like a proper family man. So Henry, I'm gonna need you to start having some kids."
Henry choked on his tea. "Um, what?"
"What?"
"Okay," Henry sighed. "Okay. It sounds like you've put a lot of thought into this."
William nodded. He had.
"But I'm not so sure we're equipped to run a restaurant. Do you have any idea how difficult it is? You have to wake up at 4am, buy produce, deal with customers…"
"All I'm hearing is blah blah blah," William said. He made a talking motion with his hand. "C'mon, there was this trashy fish 'n chips place down by where I used to live. The place looked like a homeless camp and yet people still went crazy over it. It really can't be that hard."
Henry frowned, dismayed. "I'm not so sure…"
"Please?" He grabbed Henry's arm, cheeks flushed and eyes shining. "This means a lot to me, okay Hen? Clar and me and the baby could really use the money. And I've always wanted to run a business with my very best friend."
Henry exhaled, holding his hands up in surrender. "Alright, fine. You've won me over. But you're in charge of finding some lot cheap enough for us to afford."
William could leap for joy. Ideas tingled at his fingertips. "Done. You won't regret this, Hen, I swear it."
"I already do," sighed Henry.
~lll~
Clara sat at the table, spooning apple-carrot mush into Michael's mouth with a spoon as a dog barked outside. She'd noticed how shockingly easy of a baby he was, not fussing about the food and just quietly mashing the food around with his gums.
She turned back to her poached egg on buttered toast. "Pass the ketchup, please."
William wrinkled his brow, looking up from his book. "You want ketchup?"
"Yes, I want ketchup, and I want you to get it for me."
He sighed, getting up from the pull-out table in their trailer. "So bossy." He bent down, grabbed the ketchup out of the mini fridge, and grabbed salt and pepper shakers off the counter for good measure.
"Thank-you," she hummed, and sawed a chunk of yolk, ketchup and bread off, chewing theatrically. She took another scoop, holding it out to Michael and changing to tone to an exaggerated British one. "Say thank-you, Mikey. Thank-you."
"Why are you talking like that?" William scoffed.
"Wouldn't it be cute if we raised him with a British accent?" Clara gushed. "C'mon. You know it'd be cute."
"It won't be cute when he gets bullied by every kid under the sun," William muttered, but didn't protest any further.
Michael yawned in his high chair and miraculously, fell asleep.
Oh my gosh, Clara mouthed, shaking her hands in excitement. Usually Michael was a nightmare to put to sleep. Her and William exchanged a silent high-five. I'll put him to bed, William mouthed back, and carefully lifted him from his high chair. A few moments later he returned to his seat and his book. They ate in comfortable silence a while longer.
"So, me and Henry are buying a lot to build a restaurant," William said casually, biting off a piece of toast.
Clara frowned. "Will, I really don't think we can afford that right now."
"Oh, sorry. Bought." He winked at her.
"What?!" She slammed her fork to the table before remembering Michael, who luckily didn't wake up. "William!"
"What? It's a good idea. And we could really use the money."
"Yeah, we could! So that's why we shouldn't blow it all on an empty building!" Clara couldn't believe what she was hearing. "Why on earth would you do something like this?"
"It's an investment, honey. I thought you'd understand—" The phone suddenly started to ring, and he snapped his book shut, standing up and putting it to his ear.
"Who is it?" she asked quietly.
He put his hand over the receiver, face twisted in annoyance. "Your goddamn mother. She's called twice today."
"What does she want?"
William listened for a moment, then put his hand back over. "She wants to come over to our apartment. I thought you told her we moved?"
"I didn't think—"
"No, it doesn't work this week," he said icily. "Goodbye." He slammed it back on the wall with surprising aggression, then turned to her. She shrunk back in her seat like a cornered mouse. His eyes flashed. "Why didn't you tell her anything?"
"I thought maybe—"
He didn't let her finish. "No, you didn't think. God, Clar, if you're so afraid of your parents then just stop talking to them. I did it just fine, and my mother hasn't called me since."
"Don't you feel bad about that, though? Don't you miss her?"
"Of course I don't miss her. She was an abusive sadist, just like your parents." He looked at her strangely. "I don't know why you haven't cut contact yet."
"Because I'd miss them!" She cried. How doesn't he realize that? "Do you not have any feelings at all?"
"Shut up!" William snarled. "Just shut up! You don't even—" He let out a growl of frustration, instead grabbing her wrist and backing her up until her back hit the countertops. His expression was twisted with fury. Fear bubbled in her chest. She'd never seen him this angry or this emotional about anything before. Clara tried to rip his grip off but he held strong. "Let go of me!" she cried.
His grip only tightened. "You don't understand anything. You can't speak for me."
"I didn't mean anything, I swear!"
From the bedroom, Michael began to sob.
"Oh Christ," William said dismally. He let go of her wrist.
Clara rubbed it, still shaking. "I-I'll get him."
His eyes raked over her studiously and shook his head. "No, I'll take care of him. You, um, you stay here." He hesitated. "I'm sorry."
"We can talk about it after," she said, and didn't let herself think until he'd left and closed the door, and then she let her mind spiral. Her trembling hands covered her face and her eyes burned with unspilled tears, but she wouldn't let them fall. What just happened? Was that their first fight? It was so unlike him to yell and grab. She'd heard of a few fist-fights he'd gotten mixed up in in school, but he'd never started them, and with his quiet, calculating demeanour, she'd never figured he'd be like that.
William emerged from the room, quietly closing the door behind him. He sat back in his seat and clasped his hands in front of him. "Are you mad at me?"
"Not really," she lied.
"Oh. Okay." He picked up his book again and began to page through it.
"William!"
"What?"
"I am mad at you."
"Uh, okay, then just say so."
"Fine. I just did," she snapped frostily. "Don't grab me like that, yeah? It's kind of scary."
"Yes, I'm sorry about that. It was an impulsive choice. I won't make it again." William made an X over his heart. "Promise. Hope to die."
"Alright." She gave him a half smile. "I think I'm going to have a shower now. I made your lunch for tomorrow."
"Aw, thanks, Clary. You know I'm an awful cook."
"I sure do," she laughed, but her heart wasn't in it. She left into their tiny bathroom and pulled her baggy gray sweatshirt and the rest of her clothes into a pile, turning the shower on and stepping under the scorching spray.
He'd apologized. And he'd said he'd never do it again. So why did she feel so uneasy?
A/N
The birth of Michael! Things can only go down from here…
Question/Challenge: What's your screen time for today? It's still early so mine is…22 minutes. Muahahahahaha.
Have an amazing day/night!
~ghost