AN: Here we are, another chapter here.
I hope you enjoy! Let me know what you think!
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Daryl stood in the drug store aisle and looked at the almost dizzying amount of pregnancy tests available. It was, to him, overkill.
It was also daunting and confusing, and it almost made him irrationally angry because all he wanted was something simple and reliable that he could take home to Carol.
Daryl wandered the aisles of Christmas decorations and drug store presents to find someone stocking the shelves. She was the first person who was accessible to him and also looked old enough to have any business knowing about things like pregnancy tests. He cleared his throat a few times as he pretended to look at one item or another and screwed up his courage to finally get her attention.
"Can you—help me?"
The woman smiled at him. She was one of those people who was genuinely happy with her job despite the fact that she probably didn't have the greatest paycheck or benefits, and she was also probably suffering under the strain of the upcoming holiday demands and the overall bad attitude of everyone who preached love, joy, and kindness—as long as they didn't need something from someone whose paycheck came from serving them.
"I'll try," she said, her voice sing-songy. Daryl couldn't help but smile to himself. He wished it was customary to tip people who stocked shelves and helped you find things you needed.
"I need—somethin' for my wife."
The woman immediately left her post of stocking shelves and wiped her hands on her pants—more than likely to rid them of the glitter that seemed to be everywhere these days.
"Getting Christmas shopping done early?"
Daryl laughed to himself. Her enthusiasm was contagious.
"Nah," he said. "I need—a pregnancy test for her."
The woman's whole demeanor lightened even more, though Daryl might have suggested such a change was impossible.
"Congratulations!"
Daryl shushed her and held his hand up. In Living Springs, there was always a chance you might bump into someone you knew. She laughed to herself and quietly apologized.
"Might not be no congratulations," Daryl said. "We don't know yet. That's kinda why the hell I need the test."
"They're in the feminine hygiene aisle," she said.
"I know that," Daryl said. "A whole damn wall of 'em. That's why I need the help."
She seemed to understand and hopped to something like action. Daryl followed her around the maze of half-put-out Christmas baubles and odds and ends. When they reached the wall of pregnancy tests again, Daryl stared at the woman.
"We've got—everything," she said. "More economical to more expensive. We've got—different kinds of handles and read-outs. What are you looking for?"
Daryl laughed to himself.
"I married the woman of my dreams," Daryl said. "Hell—even more than my dreams. Every damn fantasy I ever had come to life. And we wanted us a baby. We weren't even gonna be greedy 'cause we figured we waited too long for the whole two point five kids thing. Just one kid'll do it. And then we thought there weren't gonna be one—not ever. But now? There might be one. Right now. And I don't give a shit if it's two dollars or ten dollars. The only thing I care about is that—it don't lie to us. I can deal with us havin' to find out that there ain't no baby, but I don't want it to lie to us so—so she gets built up just to get torn down. You know?"
The woman smiled at him. She nodded her head, perused the rows of tests, and finally selected one. She handed it to Daryl.
"I've never used it, but this one is pretty popular. I think they're pretty reliable and they're really easy to read. See? Right there? It just says it for you. Pregnant or not pregnant. There's not a lot of guess work."
Daryl turned it over in his hands. His hands were shaking, and he recognized that, but there was nothing he could do about it. This simple little thing that he was going to buy in the drugstore—a piece of plastic in a cardboard box that could have just as easily been a toothpaste box—would decide so much about their future. This simple little thing could totally change the way that their evening—and their whole life together—would go.
Daryl's stomach was made entirely out of jelly, as were his knees, and his heart pounded solidly in his chest.
"I'ma need two," he said, almost feeling frozen to the spot. The woman plucked another box from the shelf and handed it to him.
"I think, actually, there's two in the box," she offered.
"Don't matter," Daryl said. "I want—all these."
"Sure—they'll ring you up. Would you be offended if I say good luck?"
Daryl smiled to himself and shook his head.
"Thanks," he said. "And—thanks for the help."
"Merry Christmas!" She offered, just as bubbly as she had been before, and she started off around the aisle to get back, presumably, to stocking her shelves.
"Merry Christmas," Daryl called out to her, letting the words follow her around the side of the aisle.
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Daryl called Carol on his way home and stopped to pick up the chicken and cheese wraps from a place downtown that she was craving. The place sold a guacamole that she liked, too, so Daryl ordered two orders of everything and some extra guacamole. He figured that the food would be gentle enough on her stomach—surely better than something spicy or too ornate—and he figured that the leftovers would keep well until the next day, when she might want to eat some more.
He also figured that it was best for her to eat as much as she possibly could when she was feeling in the mood for eating, since there were often times when she refused to put more in her stomach than a few sips of water.
If Daryl's suspicions were correct, getting her to eat whatever she could, whenever she could, would be even more important than when he was just worried about her health after a few skipped meals.
Carol met him with kisses and thanks for the food, and Daryl kept the tests hidden, tucked inside his jacket. While Carol warmed the food and dished it out onto plates, he transferred the tests to a corner, out of the way, in the living room. He wanted her to eat before he brought things up.
While they ate, Carol told Daryl about her day. The Christmas season working at a café seemed to be a busy time of year. They filled, in addition to what they normally served in the café, take-away orders for sweets and things for holiday parties and gatherings. Even though they were still several weeks out from Christmas, itself, they were being hired to make cookies, cupcakes, and cakes for everything from office parties to bridge group gatherings.
Daryl was distracted and, admittedly, he paid less attention to Carol's stories than he normally did. Normally, he hung on every word—no matter how trivial—that Carol said. He committed to memory the kinds of treats she'd tried each day and how she was considering changing the menu. He paid attention to each story of disgruntled customers that she had to share with him.
Today, however, he noticed other things.
Daryl noticed how hungry she seemed. He noticed that she wasn't being apologetic, as she had once been and which had never been necessary, for talking around her food. He noticed that she practically gobbled her food—sure evidence that she was feeling genuine hunger. He noticed that she didn't protest when he took it upon himself to fork another of the wraps from the plate between them and transfer it to her plate.
Daryl noticed the way her eyes shown when she spoke about something good. He noticed how she always seemed to hold something of a smile in reserve, even when she was talking about something less than pleasant. He noticed the song-like quality of her voice, and he reminded himself how much he loved her voice.
He let himself imagine her singing a lullaby and humming happily to their child, her eyes shining with the happiness he was sure she would feel.
He noticed how small and delicate her fingers were—as he often did. He loved holding her hand. Her fingers were often cold and he warmed them between his own hands. His chest tightened when he imagined her hand curled around the hand of their child. He could see her, in his mind's eye, holding onto a tiny hand as the child took some of its first adventurous steps in the world.
Daryl realized he was entirely distracted when he snapped back into his actual reality with Carol calling his name. Her brow was furrowed with concern, but still there was a hint of a smile at the corner of her mouth—she wasn't angry at his slipping out of reality. She was amused.
"Are you OK?" She asked when he hummed at her in question.
"Fine," he said.
"Are you sure?" Daryl nodded, but Carol looked no more convinced than he felt, honestly. "Is there something on your mind?" She reached a hand over and her cool, slender fingers curled affectionately around Daryl's hand as it rested on the table. He smiled to himself and caught her fingers. He lifted them to his cheek and then kissed them. Carol smiled warmly at the show of affection.
"Actually…there is somethin' weighin' heavy on my mind," Daryl said.
Carol looked concerned, but Daryl held a hand out to her to still her. He got up from his barely eaten meal and found the tests where he'd tucked them. He kept them wrapped in the bag for a moment and brought them over to the table. He sat, again, across from Carol. For a second, he hoped she'd eaten her fill because he hated to think he'd stopped her from finishing the food she'd been enjoying so thoroughly.
"It's been kinda a long day for me," Daryl said. "I was worried about your stomach."
"My stomach?"
"You ain't hardly been eatin' and you been sick," Daryl said. "I know you keep tellin' me what it is, but I also know you ain't no doctor. I was worried it might be time to—you know—look for a doctor."
"Daryl…I'm fine…" Carol said.
"I was googlin' your symptoms," Daryl said, ignoring her. "And one explanation just kept comin' up again and again. Now, sometimes I kind of believe in signs. Maybe it comes from too many movies and all—they're always getting these signs about things, but…I felt it, you know? Like somethin' in my gut that I just had to at least consider it. Carol—could you please just…try this?"
Daryl slid the tests across the table to Carol. She unwrapped them from the plastic bag and looked at the box she took into her hands. Daryl couldn't read her expression at the moment. She sucked in a breath and let it out as a sigh.
"Daryl—if I'm menopausal…"
"I don't think you are."
"You're an expert?" Carol challenged with some amusement.
"I tell you what," Daryl said. "If I'm wrong and it's that you got menopause? You can—choose some way to punish me or somethin'."
"I don't want to punish you. I would never want to punish you."
"Will you—just take 'em? Just to see?"
Carol frowned at the box in her hand, and the expression made Daryl's heart hurt.
"What if—it's not what you want it to be?" Carol asked.
"Hell," Daryl said, laughing nervously to himself. "Is it just me? I thought—we wanted the same thing. If it's me makin' you do somethin' then…we got a hell of a lot more to talk about than…this."
Carol looked up at him and he could see tears puddling in her eyes, but they didn't escape. She shook her head.
"I didn't mean that," she said. "You have to know I didn't. It's just…easier…maybe…than admitting…"
She stopped. The words had been coming out slowly, like she was choking on them, and Daryl thought he understood her struggle.
"It's easier than sayin' you want it," Daryl said. "And facin' the fact that it might not be what'cha want. What we both want."
Carol nodded.
"Yeah," she admitted quietly.
"If it ain't what we want, we'll deal with it, right? Same as we have been. Right? It don't change a thing except—we know for sure."
"I'm nervous," Carol admitted after a moment of hesitation.
"I'll hold your hand," Daryl offered with a laugh.
"While I pee on a stick?" Carol asked, laughing quietly. He was happy, at least, to bring a smile to her face.
"If it'll help, I'll hold the damn stick," Daryl said with a snort.
"I think I can manage," Carol said. "But—I really wouldn't mind the support of…you just being there."
Daryl stood up from the table. Everything inside him felt wobbly and unreliable. He steeled himself, though, because Carol, he knew, was going to need it. He offered her a hand.
"Now?" She asked.
"It's as good a time as any."
