It's the weekend, and we're at the park. Very early spring, so still kind of chilly, but the sky is so clear today. Besides, we all had to meet somewhere. I wave brightly as Belle approaches. It's been a while, possibly too long. And at about four months along now, she's starting to show a bit more. She's also doing the thing I did—I think everyone does—with her hands kind of cradling her belly. Adam's next to her, looking better. More put together. He's even trying to wear a suit. Kristoff might give him some pointers on that one. His prosthetics make the way he fills it out slightly wrong, the proportions just a little bit off, a little bit asymmetrical.
But it's about Belle today, and getting in some exercise by just walking around the park. Nothing stressful. Joan is tagging along behind Kristoff and Adam while we walk ahead, setting the pace. It's kind of chilly, but it's nice this time of year. It's almost a game, seeing how much greenery is trying to push through the last of the snow. Seeing the first leaves and flower buds. And occasionally knocking snow off an evergreen branch. Belle laughs as it dusts my hair and shoulders.
"I suppose you think I deserved that." I poke my tongue at her.
"Probably," she laughs softly. "Maybe I just need someone with that playful spark in my life."
"You mean not caring about acting like a child?" I can't help but tease.
"I think it made you a better mother." I take half a step and turn to face her, confused. Belle pokes her tongue out at me. "Because you're basically still her age." She hooks a thumb over her shoulder, pointing vaguely at Joan.
"Yay, upgrade."
The way she's giggling right now.
"My wife did like to say I was like a hyperactive five year old."
"And you still are." She pulls me into a hug, then gently places my hand over her belly. "I want to be the kind of mother you are. Always excited about the little things."
I don't know what to say. But I can smile. A smile I haven't felt in a long time, I think. Warm, and content, and proud, and hopeful, and so many other soft and powerful emotions I can't quite name.
"You, speechless?" Belle winks at me this time, gently dragging me along. "I'm sure you have some 'wisdom' to impart."
"Be excited about those little things." I can't remember where I read it, but I know it. "Then, she'll come to you with the big things."
"She?" Belle looks at me skeptically. "You…"
"I don't know," I spread my hands wide. "Turn of phrase. I was actually talking about Joan."
"And I can hear you, mom."
"Yes, and what would you like to add?" I turn so I can see her face. Suddenly going rather pink.
"Umm…"
"Now, if you'll let your mother continue, we were talking about being good parents." Belle waves at her brightly, then turns back to me. "So, really, that's it?"
"I mean, I used the books. I used the internet. I talked a lot with our midwife." I give her a chagrined smile. "I know you probably want to hear it from a friend, but there are some things the professionals are just so much more equipped to talk about. And put you at ease. Not to mention that with the way my memory works I'm only probably remembering the highlights—and lowlights—from my own pregnancy. Sixteen years ago. So, yeah…"
I hear Belle sigh. "So what you're trying to tell me is that while you want to help, you're probably not the best person to do so."
"Yeah," I lean into her for a moment. "Sorry."
"You were right about me wanting to hear it from a friend." There's her own little smile, and a hint of a blush. "That's more insightful than you give yourself credit for."
"Hey, I'm like twenty years older than you. I have to have some wisdom by now."
"Some." She agrees, laughing.
"I might not be the best for information," I flick another branch as we walk past, this time dodging the snow. "But I'll be there to support you, if you need it."
"That probably is what I needed today," she flicks a branch, then dusts snow from her jacket. "Just some support. Maybe someone to tell me where to look. I also just needed to get out and be with people. It's hard you know, living separated but wanting to be close. I'm kind of surprised at how lonely it gets sometimes."
"I was too."
She looks at me. Does she not remember?
"After the divorce. After Elsa died." I keep it simple.
"Oh." She's quiet for a time. Then: "How did you…?"
"I found Elsa. Kristoff found me." I let out a quiet breath. "Not really a solution for you. You've got more friends, right, other groups?"
She nods.
"Try arranging some activities. Nights out, if they aren't inviting you. Or nights in, doing a book club or something? I know the Belafonts—Joan's girlfriend's family—do boardgame nights. Might be better for you, easier to sit around, could find something thinky."
"It's an idea." She muses as we walk, throwing out a few more suggestions that I can't really yay or nay. I tell her as much, because it's meant to be things for her.
It's not much later and we're back at the park gate, near the parking lot. We make our goodbyes and head off. It's still nice to get out in nature when I can. I sigh. I remember a time when the furthest we got was the little park across from the hospital. A few trees, and the children's playground. And how they were all fascinated by your wheelchair, and wanted to play with your very long hair. I also remember when you took the wig off, and their shocked gasps. One of the very few times you willingly took it off in public. And you answered all their questions, too.
I have to wipe away a few tears, because I remember what some of them asked, and how honestly you answered. They said you were brave, and silly, and must have loved me lots and lots. We both agreed on that one.
Kristoff puts a hand on my shoulder when we get home. "You okay?"
"Just remembering something near the end." I give him a little smile. "The kids in the playground. I think told you about that one?"
"At work, the next day. I think the next day." He scratches his chin, thinking. "You were a bit of a mess."
"I'll be okay."
I'm just sitting on the couch with Joan, not really watching these Simpsons re-runs. I can see her playing with the sleeve of her t-shirt. It's a little odd for this weather, but she changed when we came home. Her playing nervously like that is also odd. I'm trying to keep calm, keep a neutral expression. She needs space to be vulnerable, and I'm not not going to push unless she wants me to. She pulls the sleeve up and I see a few scratches.
"Sword fighting?" It's an off-hand question.
She nods, but for some reason she also looks a little guilty.
"Is it something you want to talk about?" She shakes her head, then gestures for me to continue. "Something you need to?"
She nods, brightening.
"Okay, so, this happened at fencing," She nods again. "Maybe it shouldn't have?" Another nod. "And… oh, is it about fencing?"
She shakes her head this time.
"Okay, so, you got scratched. It shouldn't have happened, and it's not about fencing." She nods, rolling her eyes. "And I need to ask the right questions, because you're… scared of something?"
She nods, a little shaky.
I give her some real honesty. "If you're getting hurt like this—on purpose, for some reason, it's scaring me too."
She nods, but she leans forward to hug me. She really is concerned about something.
I ask what might be the scariest question. "Is it deliberate?" She nods. No, this one's scarier. "Are you doing it to yourself."
She shakes her head again.
"You're not normally this quiet," I gently poke her arm with my finger, being careful to avoid the scratches. "Are you really okay?"
"I don't know." She admits after a long pause. She takes a deep breath. "I… I don't know."
I pull her into a tight hug. I try putting the pieces together, saying them out loud. "So, injured at swordfighting. Concerned that it's deliberate, and not the fault of the fighting. Scared of why you're doing it, and… oh. It looks like someone treated it for you. I know didn't. Did dad?"
"No…" she admits very quietly.
There's an easy guess then. "Your girlfriends?"
"But why?" She's asking herself as much as me.
I recall what she said the other night. "You said you liked being touched."
She nods, blushing.
"You secretly like it when I take care of you."
A grudging smile.
"You liked it when Tina took care of you, after your fall down the stairs."
A more enthusiastic nod.
I cross my arms and give her a look. "You couldn't just ask for them to do that?"
Ah, the rabbit in the headlights look. I put a hand on each shoulder, lifting her chin so she has to look at me.
"I know it's probably very hard being this vulnerable—especially with me—but you have to practise being able to ask for what you want, as well as what you need." I rest my forehead against hers. "You're growing up, but you still have things to learn. About yourself too. You shouldn't be embarrassed to ask for things like that from your girlfriends. I don't think you're afraid of being judged for it—"
"I'm not." Her voice is very firm.
"—so why haven't you asked Bex and Tina then?"
She shrugs and shakes her head.
"Were you afraid they wouldn't?"
"…maybe."
"So the worst that could happen is they say 'no'?" I give her a wry smile. "I know that sometimes that can be the scariest thing of all."
"But, what if they do, mom?" There's a hint of desperation in her voice, and I'm not sure why. Even with all this new information.
"Then maybe all three of you need to have another discussion together about things you want, and things you're willing to do with each other."
I can see the gears meshing as she puts all of the information together. She's about to say something, holding up one finger, then suddenly goes quiet and thoughtful. And blushes again. She just shakes her head and leans into me for a quick hug.
"Maybe a distraction…" I offer her the option. "It was the following Wednesday. Yeah, I'm pretty sure it was Wednesday…"
Now she's smiling, waiting to hear the rest.
–∞–
I groaned, then rolled over. It had been a rough night. The alarm continued to scream at me. I opened one bleary eye, then caught sight of the time. Shit, shit, shit. I'm gonna be late. My morning routine was more than a little rushed, and likely involved more banging and accidental slamming of doors than was strictly necessary. Halfway through breakfast Elsa stumbled into the kitchen. I stopped with a spoonful of coco-pops halfway to my mouth. Elsa didn't normally stumble around in the morning. Or the afternoon. Or any time except after her performance and those intense days of practise a few weeks ago.
"I'm sorry," it was automatic. "Did I wake you?"
"No." she shook her head. "Couldn't sleep. Sore muscles."
I looked back at my cereal. I could see her hair. Or rather, what was left of it. And the strands covering her gown.
"I know it is looking bad." I heard a wistful note in her tired voice. Then her voice hardened. "I am still not shaving it."
I just shook my head. She was stubborn. I held my tongue, for both our sakes. I didn't want to get into another argument over that—and she already had the wig, anyway. This was just her way.
"I wish we could be enjoying this morning," she leaned on the bench next to the toaster, waiting. "But that is unfair to you, and Kristoff. You are a good worker for him."
"I… I think maybe I should be here more. For you." To be honest, I'd been giving the idea serious thought for at least a few days. "I'll ask if he'll let me go to part-time."
"With our expenses, will that be enough?" It was an honest question from her. Fair, too, given my notable inability to plan a number of things.
"We might not be able to go out much. Less fancy foods." I was honest in return. "But we'll manage. I have savings. You told me you did as well."
"I have a trust," she was spreading jam across her toast. "It is different. But I could be using it, yes. For us."
I looked at my breakfast again. I had to consider what she was saying. What she was offering. She noticed my silence, but said nothing. I gave her a little smile. We would have time to discuss it later. I nearly dropped my spoon when I remembered the other thing that was likely going to be expensive. And soon. Soon-ish.
We had a wedding to plan.
I looked up at her. "The wedding?"
"Yes, Anna?" She frowned slightly.
"Would it be okay to use some of your money for that?"
"Wait—were you planning on paying for the whole thing?" The disbelief on her face… but there was also a warmth there. Happiness.
"Most of it," I looked back at my cereal. "I figured I had enough in savings."
"And you didn't think to ask me about this?" There was real anger in her voice. "Anniken, you do not have to do any part of this alone."
"I—I just wanted to help take away as much stress as I could." It sounded weak, even if it was true.
Elsa's voice softened. "I'm right here. Your fiancé. Your future wife. We're in this together."
I sighed. "I'm not acting like it, am I?"
"No, you are not." Then she surprised me. "But I am not thinking this is deliberate. Or, it is, but is not having malice. You are… conditioned… maybe, to do so much for yourself."
I looked at her, like a rabbit caught in the headlights. She tried very hard not to laugh at that. I knew she was right. Because for the rest of my life up until then, well… she was right. If I wanted anything I had to do it myself. Try and plan it myself. Buy it myself. And sometimes making sure I did the 'right thing' and also bought something for him. I realised I was so used to giving to others—or making my own way—that I didn't even think about asking for help.
Not nearly as much as I should have, anyway.
Which, while useful, was not a great revelation to have when running so late for work. I frowned at myself. Then I took out my phone and scribbled a note. I saw the way Elsa was looking at me with sudden interest.
"Journalling." I smiled and put the phone away. "Doctor Spiros recommended I try."
"I think it is a good suggestion." She smiled for me. "Do we have much time to talk now"
"No." I shook my head. "I'm running quite late. We can talk later though. We can talk about everything."
Work that day was surprisingly mundane. Or maybe my memory of the rest of it was clouded by everything else. I remember cutting steel, and welding. Washing off pickling paste and scrubbing things to make sure the welds looked like brushed metal. But mostly I remember the conversation with Kristoff, and how much he was actually thinking about me. About my wellbeing.
"So that's the plan," I had just finished explaining it to him. I still felt a little nervous.
"Just part-time?" There was a curious rise to his voice. "You don't want to use any of your paid time off?"
"Not now," I shook my head. "Later. When… and after."
"Anna," he held out a hand and gestured towards. "Bereavement leave is an actual thing—it's in the contract. She's your wife, I can actually give you more."
"…but that's…" I sighed. I could only finish weakly: "After."
"You do have a fair amount of PTO saved, you know?"
I nodded.
"There's annual leave, too." He shrugged gently. "You can take some of it early."
I nodded again. This was veering into territory I didn't want to think about. Things I knew would have to happen, and the consequences of them. Arranging things like that made it feel all too real.
Then he surprised me, not just with his words, but with how gentle and supportive his voice was. I figured part of it was easy enough to see—I was emotionally fragile in that moment. The other part of it, maybe he had intuition, but I honestly think he had somehow figured out the biggest worry that I'd never even thought of.
"I know it's going to be hard for you." He sat in his chair and leaned back slightly. "You can take as long as you need. Even if it turns into needing unpaid time off. However long it takes. Your job will still be here, waiting for you."
I had to wipe away a couple of tears, but I smiled. For some reason I felt so much lighter after hearing that.
I felt like the meeting was over but he surprised me again when he gestured for me to sit back down. "You mentioned the other day you were having some difficulty planning your wedding, so I talked to my mother—she knows a lot of people in a lot of places. She gave me this to give to you."
I looked at the card he handed me. Just a plain business card. Completely unassuming except for the job title: 'wedding planners'. It wasn't the super expensive one either—but it was local.
"Bulda said they know how to get any wedding done, anywhere, with any number of brides and grooms."
"Any number of…" then it hit me. "Oh."
I hugged him. I couldn't help myself in that moment. He returned the hug carefully, then gave me a pat on the back.
I gave him a chagrined smile. "Thank you." I still very much appreciated the gesture.
After dinner I just lay on the couch, my head in Elsa's lap. I toyed idly with the card Kristoff had given me. Sven T., Wedding Planner. Elsa and I had discussed it over dinner and dessert. It had gotten a little heated, but she was right, calling me out for the way I was acting. So I showed her the note I'd made in the morning. Calling myself out for the same thing. She'd just laughed, then hugged me. Then we talked more about the planning.
I showed her the card.
"It's not…" she sounded confused. "But they're local?"
"Kristoff said his mother gave it to him. She knows people." I had to laugh. "Everywhere, apparently. Grapevine kinda stuff. But this one does weddings—and especially weddings with more than one bride. Or groom."
"I think it would be very helpful to contact them."
"Tomorrow."
"Yes, I think tomorrow." She leaned down to kiss me. "It is late now."
"Not that late," I countered. "There's still plenty of evening to play with."
"Do you want to, Anniken?" The question was serious.
"No," I shook my head. "I like it here. It's very comfortable. I think I can be lazy for one whole evening after all this wedding stress…"
–∞–
"Wait, that's it?" Once again Joan sounds rather annoyed with me.
I just hold up a finger and shake my head. There's more, but it's not the kind of thing she wants or needs to hear. It's a fun memory though. It taught me a new phrase to use later. Joan just gives me a slight frown, then facepalms.
"I really should know better."
"That really didn't happen until later," I pat her on the arm. "The evening really was just me being lazy and lying in Elsa's lap. I think she complained about her leg going to sleep. And she played with my hair. But really, it was one of those evenings."
"They can be nice too." She's agreeing with me. The faint hint of a blush tells me that she might know from experience.
I say nothing. I just smile and let her have her secrets.
