***Chapter 63***
**Aria's POV**
Anticipation hummed through me when I gave a brief wave as Jason drove away. I felt lighter and happier today than I had in a while, the combination of a relaxed day curled up at the movies and not throwing up the popcorn that had made up my lunch for the day was almost enough to have me floating on air with the scent of Jason's cologne wafting up from his leather jacket. As soon as the door was shut, I headed over to the little rack where we put letters, an individual cubby for each of us, even one for my mom, in case there was anything that still came to the house instead of her apartment.
I pulled the couple of letters that were in my slot, sorting through them quickly. I hadn't actually checked my mail in the last few days, so dismissed the couple of credit card offers that had piled up, along with the envelope from the hospital, probably a follow up survey from one of my recent visits. My heart sank when I came back around in the stack to the credit card offer.
No envelope from the Cardillo Fellowship.
I shoved my mail back in my slot, before grabbing the envelopes in my mom's space. Maybe someone had put it there by accident instead of in mine. Every envelope had Ella Montgomery' printed across the front. Mike's was empty, and a quick flip through my dad's yielded nothing.
My heart fell to my stomach, disappointment flooding me. Maybe it was just late getting here? I tried to cling to that hope as I headed for the kitchen. Foolishly I had believed Jason's confident assertion that I would make it as a finalist. I tried not to get down on myself, knowing that art was subjective, that the fellowship was incredibly competitive, and that I had only been really focusing in on photography for a little while. It didn't change the fact that I felt rejected. Not good enough. My stomach threatened to turn, the nausea rising up entirely psychosomatic. But it didn't change the sick feeling. Maybe I could take another round of my anti-nausea medication early.
I put the kettle on to heat, knowing that at least some mint tea might help soothe since I didn't want to take too many of my pills. I would already need to take my nightly round of vitamins soon. Thankfully I had just finished the last of the antibiotics yesterday. I looked in the pantry, to see if there was anything that might soothe the roiling in my stomach, and found a box of ginger thins. I pulled some out, not bothering with a plate and instead put them laying on top of the box on the counter. Taking a nibble, the slightly spicy sweet taste filled my mouth as I let the cookie rest on my tongue, softening quickly.
I wondered where Mike was, it was pretty late, but not so late that he wouldn't be up. It was Friday after all, maybe he was out with Mona still. Or staying with friends today. While the water heated, I pulled out my phone, abashed that I had kept it on silent even on the car ride back. I had missed the evening check-in with the girls. There were a couple of missed calls from the girls, but I figured if there was anything critical then they would text me. Or tell me tomorrow. I tugged at an earring, frustrated that it had become so normal to have a daily check in for what was happening in everyone's investigations, or else just to make sure that we were all still okay. I didn't want this to be the rest of my life. My attention shifted when the kettle shut itself off, the sound of boiling water taking over where the electric whine had been only moments before.
I grabbed a large mug from the cupboard, and dug out a caffeine free mint tea bag from the basket of assorted flavors that sat in the pantry. As soon as the hot water hit the tea, a burst of mint billowed up from the cup. I inhaled deeply, hoping that it would ease the swelling nausea that was threatening to crawl up my throat. My vision blurred, the mug in front of me turning into nothing but a conglomeration of colors and vapor rising to my face. I blinked and my vision cleared, hot tears sliding down my face. The mug clattered a little as the pottery made rough contact with the counter. My hands were shaking as I picked up the basket of tea, turning back towards the pantry, just wanting to get everything cleaned up so I could go to bed. Move on. Frustration clenched painfully at my chest, threatening to choke me as I held back the sob that needed to escape.
I needed it to stop. The feelings of failure that were pressing through me. The tremors that traveled through my limbs, leaving me shaky with too much adrenaline for too long. The quakey quality of my heartbeat as it raced. Frustration that we were stuck in the same situation no matter how long had passed. Or what we did to try and figure out who he was.
The basket made a horrible clattering noise as it hit the ground, tea bags scattering in all directions. The sudden act of spiking it into the ground overrode the frustration that was overwhelming me. Anger and a feeling of control, washed over me. My breath huffed out quietly as I stood over the chaos now scattered across the floor, feeling strong and confident with destruction at my feet.
But in an instant it was gone, the burst of anger replaced as I looked down at the mess that I had made. My heart which had been soaring for a moment on the high of my anger fell to the pit of my stomach. My cheeks heated, not with the satisfaction of taking control in the moment, but with embarrassment. I dropped to the floor, upset with myself for giving in to the impulsive urge to smash something. Like it would make me feel any better.
Cleaning up the scattered packets of tea, I felt more nauseated by my behavior than I had just a few minutes before. My mouth went dry, and I tried to swallow hard against the nausea. The tears were freely rolling down my face as I gathered up the packets, and put them back into the basket. After a moment, I brushed the tears from my face, not wanting the salt tracks to cool and turn stiff from the salt. There didn't seem to be any more tea bags on the floor. My knees hurt from kneeling directly on the hard surface of the linoleum and I realized just how tired I really was. What little energy had surged up with my anger had abandoned me now. Standing up, I tossed the basket back into its place on the shelf and returned to my tea.
It had cooled slightly in the last few minutes, enough to take a drink. I wasn't overly fond of unsweetened mint tea. But it was cooling and fresh on my mouth, despite the temperature. I didn't want to add sugar this close to bed, the siren song of my bed was pulling at my core. Instead, I took a few deep drinks, settling in at the kitchen counter. The sound of pipes turning on sounded above my head, water rushed through as someone started their shower. I quirked my head, tilting in the direction of Mike and my shared bathroom, it was likely him. I was suddenly grateful that he hadn't been downstairs to witness my fit of anger. Though it was still quite warm, I gulped the last of the tea down, then breathing through my mouth to let the lingering heat dissipate. Leaving the mug in the sink with the teabag still sitting in the empty cup.
I moved towards the stairs, heading towards my room seemingly on autopilot. Maybe there would be something in the mail for me tomorrow. Maybe there would be some break from the police about Charles. Maybe I could go to the movies two days in a row without a stalker or threatening messages. Maybe it would finally be over. Maybe, maybe, maybe.
I made it to my room before I realized my hysteria had brought me here. My hands had automatically closed around my anti-nausea medication, the cap refusing to twist despite the movement of my hands. Shaking the thought away, I applied more pressure and twisted the cap off, tilting a small white pill out onto my palm. My pre-natal vitamin was next, I was already taking a round of vitamins in the morning so it made more sense to add this to my night time allotment. After a moment of hesitation, I reached for the bottle of pain killers. I didn't hurt, not physically at least. But the thought of trying to sleep right now, with the emotional rollercoaster that I had been feeling seemed remote. And the potential for laying in bed, too exhausted to move, but unable to sleep wasn't something I wanted to repeat. I took a drink from the water bottle that I kept filled by my prescription supply, grimacing at the slightly stale taste combined with the sharp tinge of the pills coating. I didn't notice that I was still wearing Jason's coat until I sat down on the bed, the leather shifting up and pressing into my throat. It was oversized, but the long sleeves didn't bother me. It felt more like armor than anything else, like it could keep the fear at bay.
I shrugged the coat off, knowing it wasn't going to actually help anything. Despite the comforting smell that wafted off the leather. The cold enclosed me, as I stood without the heavy weight on my shoulders, gooseflesh rising on my arms. Carefully, I draped the coat over the back of the chair facing my bed. Glancing down, I realized that one of my other purses was spilling out across the seat of the chair, and my breath froze in my lungs when I realized just what was sticking out of it. A small collection of paper contrasted against the dark brown leather of the chair. I had only seen those papers once before, but I could feel my stomach threatening to revolt against the pills that I had just swallowed.
I wanted to shove them back into the confines of the little leather bag. To pretend that I had never collected them from the hospital. That everything could just go away if I pretended that it wasn't real. But the brochures found their way into my hands without any real intention on my part. I could feel myself sinking into the armchair, nudging the purse to the side as I did so I didn't sit completely on it.
The repetition of the word 'Pregnancy' made my breath still in my lungs. I moved the only one that said 'Family Planning' to the front, it seemed easier to face than the others somehow. Like that slight obfuscation made it more tolerable than the more direct language. Flipping the brochure open, it talked about options and procedures. But my eyes fixed on the contact info, where the location was. It wasn't in Rosewood. I doubted that the more conservative minded folks in town would accept a facility like Planned Parenthood within the city limits. But I recognized the address as being between here and Philly. Close enough to provide services without drawing the wrath of the town. I had heard all the commentary about it over the years, that it was really more about providing low cost healthcare to women, regardless of insurance. That there were some offices that didn't even offer termination services, but were protested none the less.
I let the other brochures fall away, as I looked more at the one in my hands. It mostly talked about contraception and risk of unplanned pregnancy. The actual reason to go to the clinic buried in subtext. I flipped it over, seeing if they actually came out and said why it had been included in the stack that I had gotten from the doctors.
"No matter what you choose" Dr. Edmonds voice echoed through my head, pushed aside for too long as I dealt with the various shit that Charles threw my way and the never ending implications that went along with it.
It had felt like permission, before I had even thought to ask the question. Dr. Edmonds had centered my health above anything else, despite giving me the stomach churning nightmare news that I was carrying the genetic material of my torturer. I couldn't stand to put it in other terms, blocking out the 'P' word around my situation. I didn't want to. Couldn't think about it that way. My hand paused on its way to my stomach, as though it was going to press into my lower abdomen.
"Hey, you're home." Mike's voice sounded from the doorway, startling me and freezing my movements.
I stared at him, wanting to hide the brochures that were scattered across my lap, but terrified to bring more attention to them if he hadn't noticed. Muscles locked completely in place, I gave a weak smile. "Yeah, the last movie we wanted to watch ended."
"Did you see the letter then?" he asked, excitement coating his tone.
Hope lurched in my chest, overcoming the exhaustion that had been tempering the slumbering emotions lying in wait. I had gone through every piece of mail that was where we always put it, there hadn't been anything.
"What letter?" I blurted out, hoping for the best that there was something that I had just missed.
"On the table, from the Cardillo Fellowship." his smile grew broad when he watched my face. "One sec."
He disappeared from the doorway, clearly heading downstairs. My emotions were on a rollercoaster, my heart soaring while anticipation and worry twisted in my stomach. Taking the moment alone to shove the brochures back into the purse at my side. I did a quick double check around me as I heard Mike's feet thudding up the stairs, all tucked away safely.
"Here." he offered, walking back into my room, holding out a cream envelope towards me.
I stood up to meet him halfway, anxiety leaving my hands shaking and my breath rough. The paper was smooth and heavy in my hands, trepidation filling me as I stared at the envelope. Once I opened it, whether good or bad I would have an answer. Right now, in this moment, however brief I had the potential to be a finalist. To have a chance to win the photo contest, move to LA this summer. Get out of Rosewood. I glanced back at Mike, seeing the anticipation on his face, waiting for me to open the envelope. I took a breath, steadying my nerves the best I could as I tore into the envelope with my fingers. It came apart in a jagged mess, but the paper inside was intact as I pulled it out.
My eyes scanned quickly over the words, registering my name and the words 'finalist' below. Air whooshed out of my lungs in relief, and I could feel the smile splitting my mouth wide, my eyes returning to Mike.
"Well?" he prodded, gaze flickering down to my hands.
"I'm a finalist." I breathed out.
"Congrats!" Mike cheered, moving forward and embracing me to celebrate.
I squeezed him back, joy suffusing the moment and taking over where anxiety had been lingering. It felt like my heart was going to hammer out of my chest and my face would crack from how wide I was grinning. He pulled away after a moment.
"I'm gonna head to bed. We'll celebrate tomorrow?" he questioned, tilting his head towards the door.
"Absolutely."
My eyes were already moving back to the letter. Drinking in every word in the letter. There wasn't a lot of time before the finals of the contest, the exhibit going to be held in a couple weeks at a gallery downtown Philly. It didn't get into how many finalists there were, but I kept turning over the words in my head anyway. I was a finalist. They liked my photos. The feeling of rejection and anxiety had left me, instead covered by the comforting wash of recognition. I wanted to share this moment, my hand immediately went to my phone. Snapping a picture of the top part of the letter. I sent it over to Jason, with a quick 'you were right' message. I also opened my messages to Clark.
Aria: I got my letter!
I set my phone on the bedside table, then grabbed my pajamas. For once, I wasn't shaking with cold. I still moved to the bathroom to change, not needing to take a hot shower to relax, but feeling safer with the locked door and lack of windows before stripping down and changing into my warm flannel pj pants and my long sleeve shirt. My evening routine of brushing and washing went quickly, the bubbly high of joy simmering within as I smoothed my moisturizer in. I slipped back to my room, hitting the overhead light and moving to the bed by the light of the bedside lamp. I checked my phone, seeing a couple unread messages.
Jason: Congrats. I knew you'd get one.
Clark: Way to go. Coffee in the morning to celebrate?
I smiled at their unwavering support. It felt great knowing they were both backing me unconditionally with this. Climbing between the sheets, I settled down in the bed. My body was relaxed and at ease. I reached to turn out the lamp, and my eyes travelled back to the purse in the chair. A painful reminder of what I kept trying to ignore and avoid. I hit the button and darkness filled the room. Yellow light still streamed in the window, from the outside lights, and I settled down. Trying to get comfortable on my side. I was exhausted from all the emotions that had been flooding me today. The ease of the day at the movies all but forgotten. Wiggling beneath the covers, I tried to relax my body again.
There was a lingering tension and nervous energy inhabiting my limbs, despite the exhaustion that made me want to pass out. I rolled to my other side, facing the wall instead of the door. I hugged a pillow to my chest, crushing it to me. My face rubbed against the pillowcase and then the tilting down into the one in my arms. It felt like needles running across my skin, pricking me as I lay still. Abandoning the pillow, I rolled back to my other side. After a few moments, I huffed at the continued sensation. Turning onto my stomach, I pressed my face into the pillow. It wasn't my favorite position, and felt uncomfortable enough for me to roll over. With a sigh of frustration, I turned onto my back, staring blankly at the ceiling. I laid there, my right arm thrown over my head, blocking out some of the remaining light in the room. My left hand rested on my stomach, fingers moving idly in a soothing movement, like my mom used to do to ease a stomach ache. I paused in the movement as I felt the plain of my stomach, it felt much the same as I always remembered, but maybe there was a slight change. A bump that could just be in my imagination. I didn't know enough about the process to know when things like that happened. Wasn't interested in learning more. Instead, I let my fingers resume their stroking motion, closing my eyes and trying to wait out the inability to sleep.
**End Chapter**
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