WARNING: THIS CHAPTER MAY BE A TOUGH READ, FOR NUMEROUS REASONS.
READ AT YOUR OWN RISK.
-x
Moving could have helped.
It should have helped, had the realtor not queried if they were looking for a place to start a family.
Realtors should not have been permitted to ask such invasive questions.
No, she had said; no, they absolutely were not.
She had left the room, hearing her boyfriend explain, "We recently lost our son."
"Oh, I'm so sorry," the realtor had said. "How old?"
"Twelve weeks."
"Infancy?"
"Twelve weeks in the womb," she had shouted from the next room. "My body rejected him because my mother was a psychopath who wanted the three of us dead; my mistake, I mean, my aunt."
The realtor had been flustered.
"I'm so sorry" was said again.
"I don't think this one's the place for us," she had said. "Next, please."
I'm so sorry.
They were all sorry, every last one of them.
None of them could understand; none but Kelly.
Except Valerie had decided that she couldn't be as upset as Kelly, who had been diagnosed with endometriosis on top of her miscarriage.
Valerie's, she thought, could have been easily avoided if Abby hadn't been in the mix.
She had gone to the fucking bereavement group Dylan had swayed her toward, one David had been told dealt specifically with grieving parents.
She couldn't be as upset as those parents, either.
They had lost fully developed children to various incidents ranging from illnesses to accidents. They had experienced lives with their children.
She had walked out of the group halfway in.
David had suggested a group for those who had also experienced miscarriages.
The closest any of their stories came to hers was the story shared of the miscarriage that had been the result of a domestic abuse situation by the person's partner.
None of them mentioned that their mother had killed their baby, the way her mother had killed hers.
Valerie had walked out of that meeting early, too.
David had attempted to get her to a third.
She hadn't budged on her adamant stance that whilst a bereavement group may have helped Dylan, it wouldn't help her.
The pills; those helped.
The pills helped her deal with the home that could have been; the home that could never be without her Daniel.
Maine hadn't been home when they had decided to forego Thanksgiving and treat it like any other day. It hadn't been home when they had returned from Christmas in Porvoo, when David had wanted to discuss a trip to Long Island and Valerie had responded by locking herself in the bathroom. It hadn't been home during New Year's, when he had decided a night out would be good for her and she had tried to act like it was.
Her brother was the only reason she stayed.
Cousin; brother, whatever he was.
"Brother," he said, looking worse for the wear. "I told you. I'm still your brother. Your brother, who thinks you should go to Long Island."
"What is it with you and David insisting I go to Long Island?" asked Valerie. "He's even gotten Bren in on it."
"How is Brenda?" asked Curtis.
"She and Dylan are house-hunting," said Val.
"I thought they have a house," said Curtis.
"They've decided to move countries. Aria's seven months and with Bren's voiceover work winding down, they think moving somewhere new will give them a fresh start. Bren's doctor recommended somewhere warm, so they're hitting up the Mediterranean right about now."
"You have a chance for a fresh start, too," said Curtis. "Maybe it isn't a house near the Mediterranean, but it is a whole new family, one that's maybe a little less fucked up. How many times did we wish for different parents, for a new start of our own? Why wouldn't you jump at that chance, Val?"
"My mother is Victor's half-sibling," said Valerie. "My father is Abby's brother. How is that a whole new family? That's like pointing to a grey horse and a silver horse and trying to say they're horses of a different color."
"Interesting use of Silver."
"You know what I mean."
"You get a different mom. A different dad." Curtis leant forward. "Things I wish I had."
"I already have a different mom. And a different dad. Their names are Cindy and Jim Walsh."
"You could have a sister."
"I have that, too. I think we've exhausted this topic, Curtis." She stood. "If that's all you want to talk about today –"
"That isn't all." Curtis gestured for Valerie to sit back down. "I had an interesting conversation with David. Think you can guess what he told me?"
"He shouldn't have told you that. You have enough to worry about with still awaiting your trial date."
"It's a good distraction. Kind of like you. Distracting yourself with sleeping pills? The Val I know and love would kick my ass for relying on sleeping pills."
"The Val you know and love is buried with her son."
"I'm not trying to take sides here, sis, but he was David's son, too, and from what I can tell, you aren't really acknowledging that."
"Did David tell you that?"
"It was implied. Heavily."
"David isn't the reason I lost Daniel," said Val. "I am."
"If by I, you mean, that old witch who called herself our mother, then that is correct," said Curtis.
"If my body had been stronger, it could have better withstood the events of the lighthouse."
"From what David said, you did a damn good job withstanding the events of the lighthouse."
"I jumped into the freezing ocean to search for him. I didn't get out until a boat forced me out. That could have contributed. I was stupid to do that, to search for a man who wasn't there, and it cost me my son. I loved David too much, and I put my love for him above the love I should have had for my son."
Her conversation with Curtis hadn't helped.
Conversations never helped.
Brenda had tried, a few times.
Every time Brenda broached the subject of Valerie's dependency on the pills, Val expertly navigated her way around the topic.
Her latest ploy had been to bombard Brenda with a plethora of questions about the McKays' extended visit to Tuscany, until Brenda had forgotten the reason for her call.
"We found a house," Brenda had gushed. "It's perfect. There's so much space for Ar – for –"
"For Aria," said Val.
David must have told them to all tiptoe around her, Valerie decided; otherwise, Brenda would have surely known that talking about Valerie's niece brought her a rare joy.
"…to run around," said Brenda, apologetically. "It has a room Dylan can use for a study, or we can have as a library and study, and then there's another room where I can set up a studio and continue with any additional voice work I might get offered, but there's a community theatre and I think I might possibly be ready to do theatre again, so I might look into that, which means I might need to brush up on my dance skills, so maybe we could put in a dance studio…am I any good at dance?"
"You aren't bad," said Val.
"I was a bit concerned of how many wineries are around here, but Dylan said he isn't concerned so I shouldn't be, either. Should I be?"
"Has Dylan given you any indication that you should be?"
"No."
"Then assume Dylan has learned his limits," said Val. "Any news on the transplant?"
"I'm just taking it moment by moment," said Brenda, "filling up my life with all the moments I can with my family. I tell myself I'll worry when tomorrow comes and when tomorrow does come, I don't worry then, either, because Aria will smile or she'll give a little laugh and I'll decide for the moment, my life can't be better."
"That's beautiful, Bren. You know what would be more beautiful? Knowing your heart is all fixed up."
"You sound like Dylan."
"I mean, yeah, your husband kind of wants to know your health is all good just as much as the rest of us want that assurance."
"My health?" asked Brenda. "What about your health?"
It had been no different when she had spoken to Brandon.
"I don't want to talk about me," said Val. "Tell me about Georgia."
Kelly had taken a job at a local children's home, with hours flexible enough that she could continue her studies in child psychology.
A young set of twins had become immediately taken with her to the point that Brandon had encountered them around his house several times.
"They're essentially orphans," said Brandon. "Dad killed during the struggle for independence, Mom's whereabouts unknown. Kel and I have discussed fostering them, but we're not sure if I'll be around enough to help her take care of them and I don't want to lay all of that responsibility on her. But they are the cutest kids, Val. You'd love them."
"I wouldn't be surprised if that's the route you and Kel choose to take, but is your relationship ready for fostering?" asked Valerie. "Wasn't that long ago when you were swearing up and down that you and Kelly had blown your last shot."
"Wasn't that long ago that you were swearing up and down the same about you and Young David, or that Bren was insistent that she didn't feel anything for our brother-in-law."
"I just don't want you and Kel to bite off more than you can chew. Make sure you're ready to take that step before you move forward."
"It's just an idea we had. Nothing's official."
"Maybe you've hopped aboard the kid train because of our perfect niece."
"Yeah. Maybe."
"Negative," Valerie heard in the background.
"I'm talking to Val," said Brandon.
"Oh shit," said Kelly.
"Negative?" asked Val. "What's negative?"
"Should I tell her?" asked Brandon.
"I don't think there's anything we haven't discussed with Val by this point," said Kelly.
Her pregnancy test, said Kelly; her pregnancy test had been negative.
The third one they had taken in as many months, all negative.
Valerie inwardly pondered why she had been the one to become pregnant when she hadn't been sure of being a mother, whilst Kelly longed to be a mother and had instead been given a slew of negative tests.
"It's alright, honey," Brandon told Kelly. "We're still young. There's plenty of time for us to be parents."
"I just want to know I can give you a baby, Brandon," said Kelly. "Maybe not now, but someday. I want to know it's possible."
"I told Val how we're considering fostering."
"We have a nice home life," said Kelly. "It doesn't seem right not to share it with someone who needs an equally nice home life."
Fostering.
Plenty of children in shitty situations would have loved to be fostered by the kind of parent David would have been.
Valerie, however, was not in a fit state of mind to consider fostering anyone herself.
Her arrest history would likely factor in, as well.
Which would look worse to potential judgers: her arrest on a murder charge, her arrest on an alleged prostitution charge, or her arrest on a gambling operation charge?
Valerie didn't need to get excited about potentially fostering a child seeking a better life, only for the courts to decide she wasn't fit to be anyone's foster mother.
The way those upstairs or in the beyond had determined she wasn't fit to be Daniel's mother.
That was the true reason Daniel had been taken from her, wasn't it? Saving him from a potential life of ruination as the son of a Malone, with three arrests under her gilded belt and a questionable history, to boot.
If Valerie had been a better person, would she still have her son? Would she have lost him in a different way, in a way she would be able to speak of in bereavement groups that were supposed to help and instead reminded her of how miserable her life continued to be?
How much pain could one be torpedoed with before they snapped?
David would say she had snapped.
Clare did as well; not in her words, but with her facial expressions.
They were the first guests Valerie and David had entertained in Maine; though, with Steve Sanders and his girlfriend Clare around, the entertainment occurred naturally.
Valerie decided they were probably the best guests to have, period, as long as they continued to book their own lodgings.
That was due to Clare. If it had been up to Steve, they would have crashed at the Silvers' place.
"You could have stayed here," Valerie told Clare. "We would have made room for you."
"Steve would have acted like your place was a hotel and you were a combination of housekeeping and room service," said Clare. "It's better that we're in a hotel."
"You haven't said why you're in Maine," said Val. "Not that I'm not thrilled to have both of you here."
"I've got a conference over in New Hampshire and I convinced Steve to join me for a romantic getaway to give him a temporary break from his concern about Rush," said Clare. "It was actually Rush's idea."
"You won't get much of a romantic getaway with David or I around."
"We'll get it later. I wanted to see your new place and Steve wanted to hang out with David."
"You mean, Dylan and Brenda asked you both to check in on us," said Val.
"A girl can't visit her friends on her way to work?" asked Clare.
"Not when her friends are on the whole other side of the country," said Val. "Then the reason for the visit becomes a little suspicious."
"Okay, maybe I did want to check in on you, a little," said Clare. "Mainly to see how you and David are doing with each other since Christmas."
"We're okay," said Val.
"Maybe someone who didn't know you would buy that, but that someone isn't me."
"I could have killed him, Clare. I could have killed David. It would have been my fault. If he'd – if he'd never met me…"
"You cannot blame yourself for Abby's antics, Valerie," said Clare.
"But Curtis is in the slammer because –"
"Curtis is imprisoned because you are a woman of such value to him that he couldn't take hearing your pain anymore," said Clare. "David; he just wants to help you, Val. We all do. But you have to let us help you and you have to start by letting go of these pills."
Clare held out her palm expectantly.
"I've stopped taking them," Valerie lied.
"Val, I can see the bottle peeking out behind the lamp on your bedside table," said Clare.
Valerie snapped up the pills before Clare had the chance.
"I won't be able to sleep without them," said Val, clutching onto the bottle.
"Can you sleep with them?" asked Clare.
Valerie could, at first.
They had helped tremendously, initially; the only thing that could ward off the nightmares when she had been unable to consume alcohol until her body had fully recovered.
They had still helped when she was able to start drinking again, in a way that the alcohol couldn't.
Until she had become dependent. Until that dependency on the pills had led her to bouts of confusion throughout the day. Until her fatigue had become chronic, which had only resulted in a daily overabundance of caffeine.
Which had made her feel like shit.
"I've realized something. I've realized I'm mad at him," Val confessed. "I shouldn't be. The logical side of me knows he didn't intend to leave. I know that he fought to come back; I know that. But the other side of me, the other side tells me that he wasn't there. That if Bren hadn't been there, if Kel hadn't, if Cindy and the rest of you…that I would've been alone. That if he wasn't there in my worst moment, how can I trust that he'll be there unwaveringly? And then I hate myself for questioning that, Clare, after everything David and I have been through. And then I think about how happy we could've been, and how that woman is responsible for everything, just because she hated me so much, and I turn to the pills. I don't know how to stop. I don't know how to stop turning to the pills. I don't know how to stop regretting that I wasn't the one who took a deep-dive with…with her."
Valerie would have perhaps said more, if she hadn't become encumbered by Clare's tight hold.
"I don't want to admit that I'm an addict, Clare, because then I'll be just like my father," said Valerie in an undertone. "I mean, Uncle Victor."
"Honey," said Clare as she rubbed Valerie's shoulder, "you just admitted it."
"I tried what Dylan suggested," said Val. "I went to the bereavement groups. None of them helped; I guess they could have helped David a little, but they didn't help me. They made everything feel so much worse. How can I grieve this much for someone I barely knew? Am I allowed to grieve this much for someone I barely knew?"
"How one grieves, for how long one grieves is completely up to that individual and there is no reason anyone else should have input," said Clare. "You may have not known Daniel long, but you heard his heart. You held him. You love him."
"I didn't think I did, at the time," said Val.
"But you did," said Clare. "You do. You are allowed to grieve your baby boy for however long you want to grieve your baby boy, but Val, you have to let go of these pills. And you have to let David take care of you. You have to let him help you."
Valerie rolled the bottle in her hands as she contemplated her next step.
"Do I have to go to Long Island?" she asked.
"Not if you don't want to," said Clare, "but it wouldn't hurt to reconsider."
"I haven't talked to Gina since Christmas," said Val. "It might be better this way."
"You could ask her with you," said Clare. "You could start out in Manhattan and from there, you could think about whether you want to go over to Long Island."
"I could ask her up here," said Val. "But why should I get to know Gina when there's a possibility that she is absolutely nothing to me?"
"Because there's just as much a possibility that she is something to you. Who knows? You could end up being like Brandon and Brenda."
"Yeah, that's not happening."
Clare offered to stand with Valerie as Valerie flushed down the pills. Valerie told Clare she would flush them herself, later. Clare spent most of her visit skeptical that Valerie would follow through.
Valerie did follow through.
She did flush the pills.
She then experienced the worst nightmare of her life, one involving Victor holding Daniel as Abby held Valerie back from getting to her son.
David had been nowhere to find in that dream.
When Valerie awoke, there David had been, arms around her, telling her it had only been a dream.
"It wasn't," said Val. "It was very much real."
During her morning errands, she purchased another bottle.
Her friends had meant well, but none of them could understand the pain she carried.
"Val? Did you hear me?"
Valerie looked away from her salad.
"I asked if you were interested in meeting up with Donna in Boston," said David. "She's got a show going on there."
"Why don't you meet up with Donna in Boston and I'll stay here?" asked Val, picking at her salad.
"Please tell me after everything, we are not back to this," said David.
"I'm not implying anything," said Valerie. "If you want to go to Boston, go to Boston."
"She's got a fucking boyfriend!" said David. "One I like an awful lot, Val!"
"We don't have to spend every waking hour of our lives together, David," said Val. "I have no problem with you going to Boston."
"I don't want to go to Boston if you're gonna be here," said David.
"Then don't go to Boston because I'm not going," said Val. "And no, it doesn't have anything to do with Donna. I don't feel much up to exploring right now. It'd be my first time in Boston, just like it'd be your first time, and I'd be a horrible first-time companion for you."
"What can I do, Val?" asked David. "How can I help you? Baby, I want to help you. I want to lessen your hurt, but you won't let me inside!"
"I had you inside me, David," said Val. "It's having you inside me that created this whole problem."
"You didn't seem to have a problem with me being inside you when we were fucking last night," said David.
"It was a distraction."
"That's all this is to you?" David slammed his hand down on the counter. "A fucking distraction? That's what we are?"
"I'm never going to be the same as I was," said Val. "If you can't accept that, then you really need to give up on this already, David."
"This isn't you talking," said David. "It's the pills."
"What pills? I flushed them."
"And then bought another bottle."
"You were fucking stalking me?"
"I found them in your hiding place. It isn't as good a hiding place as you think."
"It's how I'm coping. We can't all be perfect little grief handlers like you."
"The fuck you just say to me?"
"You heard me," Valerie spat. "I'm over here grieving the son we lost, and you're over there wondering when you can convince me to get knocked up again and give you the next one."
The last time she had seen David that furious, it had been aimed at Abby.
To have his fury aimed at her was chilling.
"You think I haven't grieved our son?" asked David. "You think I don't grieve him every fucking day, that I don't think about him every fucking day, just like you do?"
"I think that two seconds after you learned our son died, you were wondering about when you could slip off my thong," said Val. "It's why you got me to take you back so quickly."
"I hate those fucking pills," said David. "I hate what they're doing to you, to us. I hate who you are when you're on them."
"You hate me?"
"That's not what I said."
"Well, maybe I hate you, too. Maybe I hate you for doing this to me, for knocking me up when I didn't want to be knocked up. Maybe I hate that I'm trapped in my grief and you don't have any. Maybe I hate you for leaving and maybe, I want you to leave again, permanently. Maybe I'm sick of your face. Maybe if you get out of mine, I won't have as much of a reminder of Daniel and maybe, just maybe, my life can suck a little less."
"You want me to leave?" David began grabbing his belongings, including the helmet he had bought for his pedal bicycle. "Alright, I'm leaving."
"You're – you're going?" asked Val. "You're actually going?"
It had been what she wanted.
Why, then, did the thought of David leaving turn her numb?
"I'm meeting some guys," said David. "Some of the guys from bereavement group; you know, the one you didn't want to go to again and the one I've been going to, to talk about the grief you say I'm not feeling because all I care about is fucking you. You might be a good fuck, Val, but you aren't that good a fuck to make me forget about the son I love and lost. The way I loved and lost his mother, the biggest bitch I've ever met."
Loved.
Had she misheard, or had David spoken his love in the past-tense?
Regret throttled her.
"David, I –"
"Call me when you haven't rammed a bunch of sleeping pills down your throat," said David. "Until then, I think it's best if I don't see your face and maybe, just maybe, my life will suck a little less."
She hadn't realized how terrible her sentence had been until it had been echoed by him.
The door trembled from being slammed.
Three times, she counted.
She had fucked up her relationship with David Silver, three times.
Add it to the pile of other relationships she had fucked up.
Maybe it would have been better for both her and David if she had had an abortion.
He might have never forgiven her, but they wouldn't have experienced unfathomable pain, either.
She could live without David.
She could. She had.
She had to go after him.
She had to apologize.
Would he accept her apology?
Would she accept his apology, if he had told her what she had told him?
She tried to call.
He didn't pick up.
She tried again.
On the fourth try, the call was picked up, by a man who was not David.
"If that's Val, tell her I don't want to talk to her!" David shouted.
"I need to talk to him," Val told the man on the line. "Where is he?"
A bar, said the person, wherein David was about to get drunk off his ass.
She knew the bar.
It was near their venue.
Valerie walked in to find David tracing the condensation on a tall glass of a liquor even Valerie didn't recognize.
A woman who appeared slightly older than them had draped herself across David's lap.
Valerie bolted over.
"Get your fucking ass off my boyfriend," she told the woman.
"Oh, I'm sorry," said the woman. She withdrew from David. "I didn't know he has a –"
"Girlfriend?" asked Valerie. "Because he does."
"I don't know who you are," said David, "but you aren't my girlfriend. My girlfriend left, with our son."
"Son?" asked the woman.
"David, I need to talk to you," said Val.
"Why, Val?" asked David. "So you can get a fuck you'll enjoy in the moment and deeply regret later?"
"Unless you'd rather fuck Little Miss Red High Heels over here," said Val.
"They're magenta," said the woman.
"Whatever," said Val.
"This isn't what it looks like," said David.
"Some bimbo's draped all over my boyfriend, trying to talk him into sleeping with her?" asked Val.
"Okay, it's exactly what it looks like," said David.
"Maybe if you hadn't made your boyfriend so miserable that he came into my bar seeking solace," the woman began.
"You don't know anything about my relationship with my boyfriend," said Valerie, "so move along, honey. He's taken."
"It's just as well," said the woman. "I have better things to do with my time than fight with children."
"Who are you calling a child, bitch?" asked Val. "You were going to fuck her," she told David. "You were seriously going to fuck her?"
"I thought that's all that matters to me," said David. "Fucking some woman in a thong. Are you wearing a thong? Because according to my girlfriend, I want to fuck you," he told a second random woman, who threw him a dirty look.
"Fucking me!" said Val. "Not a whole other fucking woman!"
She was warned to not make another scene, or she would be kicked out of the bar.
She caused another scene and was kicked out of the bar.
David followed her.
"What was that?" he asked.
"What was what?" asked Valerie.
"You've been trying to break up with me for months and the second another woman takes an interest, you're jealous?" asked David. "What is it, Val? Do you want to end things with me, or don't you? We can't keep going in circles like this!"
"I can't do this right now," said Val, opening her purse. "I need a nap."
"You do not need a nap," said David, grabbing at Valerie's purse.
"Give me my purse, David!" said Val.
"Tell me you don't have more fucking pills in here, and I'll give you your purse," said David.
"I don't have more fucking pills in there," said Val.
"Really?" asked David. "Then what's this?" He brought out a pill bottle stashed at the bottom, with a fresh prescription.
"It's my last bottle," said Val. "I was going to throw it out."
"You were? Great. Then you won't mind if I do."
David stalked over to a trashcan.
"Give me the bottle, David," said Val.
"No," said David.
"David! Give me the bottle!"
"I'm not giving you the bottle, Val."
"How am I supposed to sleep tonight?"
"Are you really gonna stand there and act like you haven't been sleeping fitfully regardless of these pills? Because I'm the one lying next to you in bed. I'm the one who sees how you struggle in your sleep and these pills, Val; they aren't doing a damn thing for you."
"That's – that's not true," said Val. "They – they help me sleep. They keep away the nightmares."
"I help you sleep," said David. "I help you keep away the nightmares."
"I can't rely on you."
"And you can rely on the pills?"
"They were there when you weren't. They've been there when you haven't. When no one has."
"So what you're saying is, you took these before Bren's breakdown in court."
On and off, throughout the years.
Abby had kept a supply in the medicine cabinet.
On the nights when Valerie couldn't sleep after a particularly brutal attack by her father, she had taken those pills.
After Curtis had killed Victor, she had taken the pills.
"Then I got into pot," said Val. "Drinking. Seemed stupid to mix the pills with pot and alcohol, so I got myself to stop."
"Until court," said David.
Until Valerie had lost her money in a scam.
"Didn't you almost jump the very next day?" asked David.
"Yeah, so?" asked Val.
"So you're telling me you took sleeping pills that night and decided to almost jump the very next day, and you don't see what taking these pills for so many years has done to you?" asked David.
"I also took them after my – after my –"
"After your," said David.
"My rape," said Val. "After I was raped. Again. Then during my HIV scare, when we'd broken up."
"But you didn't take them again until court."
"I couldn't. I had to ensure I could wake up if Brenda needed me."
"Until court, when you mixed them with the alcohol you said yourself was a bad idea to mix them with."
"I haven't mixed them again," said Val. "It was one time. One time when I wasn't thinking straight. I know what I'm doing now, honest I do. I just – I need them David, okay?"
"I need you, Val," said David, opening the bottle. "I need you to stop self-medicating when it's only hurting you more. I need to know I didn't lose you when we lost our son. I need you to get rid of these pills, once and for all. I need you to try, for me."
She did like to be needed.
He knew that about her.
He knew everything about her, more than she was comfortable with him knowing.
"I don't know how," she said. "I – I tried. After Clare visited. I flushed them and then – and then the nightmares and – David, I don't know how."
"You have to let me in," said David. "That's how. You have to let yourself be vulnerable with me. You have to let me help you grieve. You have to let us grieve together, but you have to let us get our lives going again, too. We have to start by getting rid of these pills and then, Val, you have to come with me to a meeting. That's non-negotiable."
"I don't hate you, David."
"I know."
"My life does suck, but not because of you."
"It doesn't have to, Val. You can live again. You just need to take the first step, and you know what that is."
"Admitting I have an addiction," said Val.
"That's not the first step I was hinting at," said David.
"You want me to chuck the pills."
"Don't do it for me. Do it for yourself."
She had never sobbed in a landfill before.
She had never been in a landfill before.
David had said it was the best place for them to crush Valerie's addiction, together.
She felt the lightest she had been in months, leaving the landfill with the bottle of pills buried under mounds of discarded waste.
Her new sense of freedom may have been due to David showing he had forgiven her by wrapping his arm around her shoulders.
She lay her head against him.
"I'm sorry," said Val. "You shouldn't forgive me. I was such a bitch."
"You are a bitch," said David. "The bitch I love more than anything in this world. The bitch who lashes out when she's hurt and frustrated, usually at the people she loves most."
"I didn't mean it, you know," said Val. "I didn't mean it when I said I think all you want is a fuck."
"I do want a fuck," said David. "You're the best fuck I've had in my life and I definitely want you to fuck me, repeatedly."
That made Valerie laugh; properly laugh, the way she had thought she had forgotten how to do.
"And if we make another baby out of it, someday," said David, "that will be the second proof we have that nobody fucks like we do."
They spent the rest of the day taking in the charm that the small coastal towns of Maine had to offer.
"I think I would like to go to Boston," said Valerie. "It will be good to see Donna, and I assume D'Shawn will be there."
"Steve and Clare might, too," said David, "depending on Clare's schedule."
"Maybe," said Val, half-engaged in window shopping, "maybe I should also pop into New York."
"Long Island?"
"Manhattan."
"That's not far from Long Island."
"And here I thought they were on completely different sides of the East Coast," said Val.
"I can call Gina for you."
"David." Valerie separated from him. "I did one super hard thing already today. Don't push it with another one."
"I thought you were going to lose it on Magenta Heels Girl," said David.
"I thought about it," said Val. "I didn't and I still got kicked out of the bar."
"We don't need to go to that bar, anyway," said David. "There are plenty of other bars for us to hang out in."
"Will you – will you still come home?" asked Val. She averted her eyes. "I know I've been trying to get you to leave, but – but –"
"But the second I walked out that door, you thought about the time we spent apart and you decided you couldn't handle going through it again, so you decided to come find me and apologize," said David.
"I do that with you a lot," said Val. "Apologize."
"I've done my fair share of apologizing to you."
"Why do we keep hurting each other like this? People who love each other the way we do aren't supposed to hurt each other this much."
"We're two broken people, Val, coming together from two broken families. We're bound to make mistakes."
"Dylan and Kelly are two broken people who tried coming together from two broken families, and it didn't get them very far."
"Unlike Dylan, and Kel, for that matter, my mind is not stuck on another," said David. "Nor is yours."
"I don't want to make another giant mistake with you, David," said Val. "I want to know that ours is the one relationship I can keep intact, even if it is dented a bit along the way. I want to know there is one thing I can do right in this life."
"I," David looked down at Valerie's feet, "I was saving this for your birthday, but, maybe being this close to Valentine's Day, it wouldn't hurt if I gave it to you now…"
The ringtones emanating from both of their pockets sliced into David's intended movement.
"That's Kel's ringtone," said David.
"That's Dylan's," said Val.
"Dylan has his own ringtone?"
"Bren put it on."
The phones stopped.
Valerie stepped closer to kiss David, when she was again rudely interrupted by new ringtones.
"That's Dylan's," said David.
"That's Kel's," said Val.
They both answered their phones.
"Dylan?" asked David.
"Kel?" asked Val.
"I'm trying to get a hold of Brenda," Kelly told Valerie.
"I'm trying to get a hold of Brandon," Dylan told David, loud enough for Valerie to hear.
"Why are you calling me?" asked Valerie and David, in sync.
"Because I can't reach her or Dylan and I'm hoping you can," said Kelly.
"Because I can't reach him or Kelly and I'm hoping you can," said Dylan. "Is there an echo in here?"
"Dylan?"
"Kel?"
"Put Brenda on!" Kelly demanded, as Dylan said, "Put Brandon on!"
"I can't put Brenda on," said Dylan.
In sync, Kelly said, "I can't put Brandon on."
"Why the fuck can't you put either of my twins on the fucking phone?" Valerie yelled at both of them.
"We're in the hospital," said Kelly and Dylan, again in unison.
"Why are you in fucking hospital?" asked Dylan.
"Why are you?" asked Kelly.
"I ask the questions," said Valerie. "And one of you better start giving answers. Kelly, we'll start with you."
"Brandon," said Kelly, "he – he went into the office like normal and – and – and there's this group from – from a nearby country; they've made it their mission to rid this area of all journalists, no matter what their nationality…Brandon, he – he was going to leave for the night – he stayed behind to help a friend…"
"Fuck," said David.
Valerie sought his arms.
"He's okay, though, right?" asked Val. "He got caught in the – the – but they pulled him out and he's in the hospital, so that's good, isn't it?"
"We – we thought it was," said Kelly.
Brandon had seemingly recovered quickly and had been ready to go home, until he had started to experience severe abdominal pain.
"We're waiting on them to find a donor," said Kelly.
"A donor?" asked Dylan. "For what?"
Brandon's ruptured small intestine, said Kelly.
"Can you live without a small intestine?" asked Valerie.
"They're – they're looking for a donor," Kelly repeated, "for that and – and –"
Brandon's damaged cornea.
"Your turn," Valerie told Dylan, unsure she could take Dylan's news after struggling to breathe through Kelly's.
"We're waiting on a donor, too," said Dylan.
He had come home from a meeting with his publisher to find Aria crying in her crib and Brenda collapsed on the floor.
"The one fucking day I wasn't at home when Bren was," said Dylan. "The one day!"
"Her – her heart?" asked Valerie.
She had lost all ability to stand.
David held her up.
"I checked," said Dylan. "I checked it was fine to visit Toscana before we went. They said she was good to go. If she was so good, tell me why my wife is back in fucking hospital the week after we return!"
"They'll find a donor, Dylan," said Valerie. "She'll have a match."
"Her match is probably Brandon and we very much don't want his heart," said Dylan. "Sorry, Kel."
"No offense to Bren, but she can't have Brandon's heart," said Kelly. "It's mine and I'm not giving it up to anyone."
"I knew I should have bought her way up the list," said Dylan. "Bren kept insisting she could wait, her doctors kept insisting she was doing as well as she could be…and now here we are, waiting for her to get a fucking new heart."
"Is Bren awake?" asked Kelly.
"Is Brandon?" asked Dylan.
The answer to both of those questions sank Valerie's heart further than it had already gone.
"Sleeping?" asked David.
Unconscious, he was told by both.
"Where's – where's Aria?" asked Valerie.
"Mom's watching her," said Dylan.
That should have been Valerie's duty, she told herself, as Aria's godmother.
"Are they hopeful they can find donors?" asked David.
"They've moved Bren to the top of the list," said Dylan. "They've – they've got her on the machine." His voice came out stilted.
"It can't be that hard to find a donor for a small intestine, can it?" asked Kelly. The fear in her voice betrayed the confidence of her words.
"We have to go out there," said Valerie.
"Which there?" asked David. "We can't be in two countries at once."
"I'll – I'll go to Finland," said Val. "You go to Georgia, and then we'll switch."
"I need to call Steve," said Kelly.
"I need to call Clare," said Dylan.
"We need to call Nat," said both.
"I'll make all the calls," said Val. "Both of you give me a list of people you want called, and I'll call them."
"Hannah," said Dylan.
"You want me to call Hannah?" asked Valerie, silently asking David if Dylan had lost his wits.
David failed to give an answer back, silent or otherwise.
"Hannah – she – she's – excuse me!" Dylan yelled. "Excuse me!" he yelled again.
"Yes?" he was asked.
"I know that girl!" said Dylan. "She's my niece! What happened?"
"Overturned vehicle on the highway," they heard. "If you'll pardon me, I must attend to my patient."
"Xavier!" came from Dylan next. "Where's Andrea? Where is she?" His voice became increasingly desperate.
If Xavier Cerolini had informed Dylan of Andrea Zuckerman's whereabouts, none of them knew, as Dylan had only given a choked gasp before the call had abruptly dropped.
They had picked a hell of a day to rid Valerie of her sleeping pills.
Unsure if she could allow herself to purchase another prescription after the awful things she had yelled at David, she was tempted to dig through the entire landfill to find one bottle.
Instead, she tried several times to call Dylan back, getting his infuriating voicemail each time.
David booked their tickets, both thankful that the venue had turned a decent enough profit that they could book spur-of-the-moment tickets to Europe without worrying about how to pay their next months' rent.
"I can't live a life without my twins," Valerie told David. "I don't want to live a life without my twins."
"You won't," said David. "We won't. Keep calling. We need to know about Andrea."
Both of their flights had layovers in Zurich.
They met up at the airport, which boasted a view that Valerie would have tremendously enjoyed, had she not been consumed by other matters.
David promised her that one day, he would bring her for a proper visit to Switzerland.
"You were going to give me something," she said, trying to create a distraction for them.
"It can wait until later," said David. "I don't like the thought of being apart from you again."
"Kel needs you there just as much as I do," said Val. "And knowing you'll be with Brandon is the only thing keeping me from going insane that I can't be with both of them."
"Steve and Clare are on their way."
"So's Donna."
"McKay should really start to consider purchasing a private plane we can all borrow if we're going to need to keep traversing the globe like this every few months."
"Keep telling me my twins are going to get their transplants. That's all I need to hear right now."
"Our twins are going to get their transplants," David told Valerie as he held her tightly.
"And Andrea," said Valerie. "She'll be okay, too, won't she? Because if she isn't, I don't know how Brandon's going to take that…"
"If Andrea was that badly off, Dylan would have told us by now," said David.
"Unless he's lost all ability to function and forgotten how to pick up his fucking phone."
"If you," David hesitated, "if you need to buy another bottle –"
"No." Valerie's answer was firm. "My twins need me to be in the best state I can be in and the fucking pills won't put me there. Not after how I treated you. I'm so fucking sorry for that, David. I hate myself for the things I said."
David's flight was called for boarding.
"I love you," he said.
"I love you," said Valerie, hearing boarding called for her own.
They kissed intensely and frantically, neither willing to release the other but both accepting that they had to get to their respective gates.
She had to be there for Dylan, just as David had to be there for Kelly.
Waiting for Jim and Cindy, the latter of whom had promised to pick her up from Helsinki when Jim arrived for his own flight to Tbilisi, Valerie mulled over the potential expense of getting Brandon airlifted back to Finland to share a room with his sister.
If such an idea would be permissible by his doctors.
She feared that if one of the twins remained in limbo, the other would, too.
At some point, they would be removed from limbo, and Valerie wasn't sure she wanted to know which direction they would be taken.
Another thought entered her mind, one she couldn't shake.
When she and David had lost Daniel, they should have never stayed in Maine, for Curtis or otherwise.
They should have returned to Europe.
They should have moved back to the twins.
If Valerie had returned, perhaps Brandon would have stayed.
He wouldn't have been in Chechnya. He wouldn't have been in the Chechnyan building when it had exploded.
Then, perhaps, Valerie wouldn't be in danger of losing both of her twins, of losing the people who had been responsible for introducing David Silver to her life.
A life she was ready to spend with David, as his wife.
If he still wanted to marry her, after everything she had said.
She wouldn't blame him one iota if he did not.
-x
I had thought the ending of this chapter would occur later on in the story, preferably much less close to the loss of Shan, but this is the way the story went so I allowed it to go that way.
Sources: Google and Addiction Center.
(Shout-out to KJ to express my continued gratitude and appreciation, as well as those of you whose review I could respond to directly. KJ, yes, Dylan finally secured guardianship! All he had to do was continuously prove how mature and responsible he could be. Ha, I would have loved for Ian to make a joke like that, especially if Jason joined in and said the same since all three of them, plus Luke, kissed Val!)
Thanks a million! x