Chapter Text
Don’t stop trying to find me here
amidst the chaos,
though I know it’s blinding
there’s a way out, say out loud:
we will not give up on love now.
No fear, don’t you turn like Orpheus,
just stay here, hold me in the dark
and when the day appears we’ll say:
we did not give up on love today.
— orpheus by sara bareilles
*
TWO YEARS LATER…
“They’re here!” Greta yells from the kitchen.
Lucky erupts into a series of adorable barks, and Carson quiets him just like the dog trainer has shown her. She rushes to the front door, but she pauses and turns to Greta.
“My love?”
Greta loves it when Carson calls her my love, even when she’s grumpy like this morning. It still gives her a thrill every time, even after two years of being together. Carson loves her: yes, the rush of emotion is still fresh.
“Coming,” Greta yells back, fighting to take off her dirty apron and running to join her girlfriend so they can open the door to their home together.
It’s such a small thing, but it makes Greta’s heart feel bigger, swollen with love. Greta laces her fingers with Carson’s. Carson beams, kissing her knuckles, then they open the door, letting in a burst of chilly December air and a chorus of greetings as their friends make their way into the house. For a few minutes, it’s all a flurry of noise and hugs and happy barks. Carson’s whole family came to visit from Lake Valley, and Jess and Lupe were invited, too. They officiated their relationship a year ago. It took them longer than Greta and Carson. Lupe brought a spectacular bouquet of flowers, and Greta busies herself with finding a vase. She hears Carson commenting on their outfits.
“I was going for something Christmassy, I’m not sure what,” says Jess. “Maybe one of Santa’s butch helpers?”
Lupe puts her arm around her waist this time. “You look hot, whatever you are. It appears that we’ve lost Greta.”
“I’m here—I can hear everything!”
“How are things with you guys?” Jess asks, motioning to Greta and Carson, who now radiate matching grins.
“Perfect,” Greta says. “We’re hosting for Christmas, what more can I ask for? Though, this many people in our house—did we think this through?”
Marie and Megan are distracting the children while Megan’s husband hides their gifts in the living room under the tree.
“It’s going to be fine,” Carson assures.
“Yeah, we’re just here for the drinks,” Lupe says. “Talking of which, can I top up yours?”
At lunch, Lucky sticks his head up from under the table. His sixth sense for food is admirable. He puts his soft head between Greta’s legs and she ruffles him under his ears. Bonnie’s curled up on the living room couch. He doesn’t like company that much. Greta admires Carson across the table, in awe of how difficult it is to tear her eyes away from the open, relaxed, unambiguously happy face of the woman she loves. After two years of a committed relationship and official cohabitation, she would have expected the shine to start wearing off. Yet she’s never felt more dedicated, more passionate to keep this love close and their relationship healthy, or more happy to spend her days alongside Carson. The crush she developed during their friendship is a pale shadow of how she feels now after spending nearly every day of the past twenty-four months together. The more time she spends with Carson, the more she finds reasons to love her. She’s so easy to love, Greta doesn’t understand how anyone ever made it look hard. Greta is so fucking in love with Carson Shaw. Head over heels. Smitten. Done for. And whatever else the English vocabulary can offer. She is so utterly infatuated with her, it’s almost crazy.
Beneath her lover’s initially introverted exterior is a compassionate and playful spirit who genuinely cares about her co-workers and students, and the lucky few souls whose friendship she chooses to accept. As a romantic partner, Carson has always treated Greta as an equal in their daily lives, yet never hesitated to indulge in Greta’s most private fantasies free of judgment. She always knows just what to say to bolster Greta’s self-confidence and chase away the doubts that occasionally threaten her work. On a more surface level, Carson also likes a lot of the same music and literature that Greta does. They fit perfectly. Greta knows the contours of her face more than she knows her own. She knows her so well she could pick her out in a crowd of people, even blindfolded. Even if things change, if Carson takes up a new hobby or decides she wants to change job or city and live in the countryside, some things will never change. As for Carson’s flawless ass, well, Greta considers it a bonus. A perfectly proportioned, perfectly shaped bonus.
This year, Greta and Carson have had more time to prepare with festive-themed ornaments, baubles in all shapes and colours, along with tinsel, tree beads, and tree-toppers. Even a vast range of festive plants. Their fir tree is real and filling the corner of the living room, glowing.
“This was always your dad’s favourite day too, you know,” Marie says to Carson once they’re having hot chocolate in the living room and scrolling through family photos.
“Dad loved every day in December.”
“He did, didn’t he? God, I miss him. His love for the holiday season was contagious.”
Greta squeezes Carson’s hand back. Her dad’s absence at this time of year is like an open wound for Carson. They just have to make it the best Christmas ever in his honour.
“I know. I miss him too. But that’s why I love Christmas so much.”
“Let’s just hope he’s proud of us,” Greta says.
“Well, I am,” Marie says. “You’re everything I could ever have hoped for my daughter.”
Carson grins at her. “For once in our lives, we’re in complete agreement.”
“And you’re looking good on it too, honey, you’re glowing. I remember glowing when I first met your father, everybody said so. Hold on to this one.”
“I intend to hold on to her,” Carson replies.
+
The day after Christmas, Greta gets a phone call. It’s Charlie.
Carson gets woken up when Greta yells into the phone, “Two fucking years? That’s what he gets?” and stays beside Greta the whole time, with Charlie on speaker updating them on Vernon’s situation.
“Greta, baby, look at me,” Carson says, taking the phone away from Greta’s trembling hands.
It’s like she’s living an out of body experience.
“I need you to look at me. He’s not gonna hurt you. I won’t let him. Do you hear me? I won’t let it happen.”
“It’s not me I’m worried about, Carson—I don’t care about me… but what if… if he finds you? I’ll never forgive myself—”
“Shh,” Carson says into Greta’s hair.
Unable to dwell on the worst years of their relationship without inviting more tears, Greta lets her thoughts return to her most bittersweet memories while in the shower: those of Vernon as the romantic older man who’d once treated her well. Even before the smiles began to tighten, then fade, Greta had detected hints of his jealousy and possessive nature. At first, she’d rationalized his grumpiness about her favorite low-cut shirt and irritation with the people who’d smiled at her. In hindsight, she realized she’d ignored warning signs because she so badly wanted to believe in his all-consuming version of romantic love. To admit she’d been wrong about the person she’d told all her friends was the love of her life, then extracting herself from such a situation ended up being the hardest thing Greta had ever done. So hard it took her a lot of time to accomplish. She can’t afford to waste any more years on another misguided delusion. But Carson has been placing Greta in the center of her universe daily, with a mere glance, or caress, or heartfelt declaration of love.
“Carson isn’t him,” she says out loud, addressing her unspoken anxiety. “She’ll never be him.”
+
The new year brings about bad news. Carson has to go to Idaho because her mom has gotten sick. She tells Greta not to worry, that she’ll be able to handle it alone, but Greta understands from Carson’s grey face that things are not right. She doesn’t ask for details, and Carson doesn’t give any. There’s a few anxious phone conversations.
“Hi, love, how are you?”
“I’m good, Car. How’s your mom?”
“I’ll… I’ll tell you about it in person.”
“So you’re coming home soon?”
“Uh… I was actually wondering if you could pack up your bags and come here? Just for a little while.”
The little while turns out to be two months. Greta has to go back and forth to not miss too much work, but Carson has used all of her sick days and they’ve had to replace her as principal. Marie has been diagnosed with second stage breast cancer. Greta read it up on her medical papers, because Carson couldn’t even get the words out. But they got. lucky. They caught it pretty early and it’s not metastatic. They have to be hopeful chemo will work. Greta has been taking care of two adults full time—one too sick from the chemo side effects and one too depressed to take care of herself. They have to hire a nurse who can visit Marie daily so Carson and Greta can go back to Illinois for a week.
“And I definitely am not going to think about how it’s only going to get worse. How someday soon she’ll forget how to eat or, or clean herself and she’ll have to be taken care of by nurses even though she’s still so young,” Carson rambled.
It’s clear she is scared and maybe even ashamed, with this amount of guilt. She doesn’t say it but Greta knows it. But there’s no right or wrong feeling about this situation. Greta cannot judge her.
+
Greta wakes up on a Saturday to the sound of birds coming from outside. It’s her favorite way of waking up, albeit a little too cold. Just last night she’d cuddled into Carson’s warmth, confessing to her: “I can’t live without you.”
She gets up to look for Carson in the bathroom, in the kitchen, then in the bedroom again just in case she’d missed her the first time, until finally she goes into the living room. There’s a note that smells of jasmine, with a rose and a yellow envelope next to it. Greta’s heart jumps in her throat, a terrible fear spreading through her. She’s cold sweating. Carson wouldn’t tell her such terrible news through a colorful letter.
I can’t live without you, either. I love you with all my heart, Greta. Which is why I left early this morning. Open the envelope and reach me. Don’t ask too many questions, just let your heart guide you. I’ll wait for you.
Yours, Carson.
Greta opens the envelope, without hesitation, and a tender smile appears on her face. She’s not angry or scared anymore. Nothing will change between them, or maybe it will? Maybe it already has. She finds a plane ticket to… Boise, Idaho? Is Carson crazy? How early did she wake up this morning to do this? How long has she been planning for it? She must have been out of her mind. Maybe Carson just wants to give her a vacation to break away from the world that surrounds them. They always talked about staying at that four-stars hotel near the lake but never went. Greta doesn’t know why, but she’s shaken by the uncontrollable urge to laugh. She picks up her phone and calls My love.
“Carson Shaw. I will kill you.”
“What every woman wants to hear.”
“What is this?”
“You said you liked surprises.”
“Yeah but—couldn’t you have waited? We could’ve gone together.”
“I know, but distance only makes the heart grow fonder. Now pack up as much as you can and I’ll see you tonight.”
Along with the note there’s an address, definitely too familiar: the street is the same where Carson’s mother lives, but the number is different. Something’s confusing her; Greta has to pinch herself to make sure she’s not living in a crazy dream of her own. Maybe she should just stop asking herself questions and follow her heart, like Carson told her.
Greta starts putting her winter clothes into her suitcase, then goes into her drawer and pulls out five pairs of underwear. Then she adds another. She’d never needed an extra pair while travelling in her entire life, but she always packs one extra “just in case”. She glances at her thong, bought for a special occasion and never worn with Carson. Maybe this is the right time. Half of Carson’s clothes are gone from the wardrobe.
“God, Carson…” she laughs, then looks at the letter again.
The desire to go get Carson, hold her in her arms and tell her how crazy she is about her is so strong. Her heart can’t stop beating madly. Since she met this woman, her whole life has been turned upside down. From the moment her eyes laid on her beautiful face, she knew this woman would be a part of her life. At first, she only thought it’d be her work life, but now Greta can’t imagine a day without her. She never imagined Carson would be a source of trouble, of madness, of things she never imagined doing. Her life has turned into a movie before she could even realize it, where the protagonist chases the love of her life and finally they live happily ever after with seven pets and three kids. A movie that has a happy ending. So Greta follows her.
Greta smiles as she looks at the clouds below as she flies above the city that took so much from her but also gave her everything she could have asked for. Greta has never been a religious person, but she knows she has some higher power to thank for Carson. Every night she closes her eyes before falling asleep and prays it lasts forever.
I’ll wait for you.
She keeps staring at the letter like it’s a photograph, like the words could change at any moment and float away. She’s eager to see Carson again, hold her in her arms and never let her go. When she gets off the plane, the first thing she does is take out her phone.
“Greta?” Carson answers after the second ring.
“Hi.”
“Hi.”
“Hi. I just landed and I want to re-state that you’re crazy.”
She hears Carson laugh on the other side. That’s her favorite sound.
“I know. I’ll explain everything when you reach me at the address I wrote down.”
“Are you sure that—”
“I’ll wait.”
Carson hangs up. Greta calls a cab.
She gets dropped off at number 23.
It’s a very nice house, with a white gate and a modest garden. Greta’s already identifying the plants before she gets in. A small red brick path leads to three steps, to a porch where there’s a rocking chair and a wicker table. It’s really pretty, but what catches her attention is the two floors, white walls and wooden door. It’s so… typical it makes Greta smile. Carson opens the door. She’s just perfect. Her perfect angel. She smiles, leaning on the doorway.
“Hello, Gill.”
“Hi,” Greta says, not trying to hide her perplexity. “Who did you steal this house from?”
“Do you like it?”
“Yeah, but—”
“I’ve made the deposit.”
“What?”
“It can be ours, if you want.”
Carson shrugs her shoulders, almost afraid of Greta’s reaction.
“Carson… It’s beautiful, I would say perfect, but you shouldn’t—and then it’s very far from our work…”
“There’s a school a few blocks away. We could ask for a transfer. I can say I want to move here to be closer to my mother, who by the way knows everything. She helped me. We chose it together, you know? And you have a good reason to ask for the transfer. I want you to be safe. And the only way to be safe is to move states. They’ll understand.” She looks down for a second, but the sadness in her eyes only lasts a short time. “It’s a way to start again, Greta. Truly. There will be no more bad memories, no more threats. No one can find us. It will be just you and me…”
“Bonnie and Lucky and—” She freezes for a second. “And a new beginning.”
Greta nibbles on her lower lip, nervously. She stands there, looking at the crazy woman she loves with all her heart, a goofy smile on her face. It could work. It’s reasonable and… she wants to. She really wants to start over with Carson, throw away all the memories of a troubled past and finally, definitely turn the page. She will miss so much of Rockford. But Carson is giving her this chance. She’ll put the money from the old house into this one, it’s only fair she helps Carson with paying it. It’s the thing she wants most.
“Would you like to see the inside? Because you’re kind of letting Antarctica in here,” Carson interrupts her thoughts.
It’s only now that Greta realizes Carson’s barefoot, waiting by the open door while she’s snuggled in her winter coat in front of the porch. Greta takes a step, then another.
Carson walks her through every room, into the huge kitchen with an island, into the vast living room with a bookshelf wall, then upstairs. The stairs are made of wood, just like the doors, and they go up in half a spiral. They lead to the large bathroom, which includes a bathtub that Greta has always wanted. And then there’s a spacious spare room, an empty one.
“We could have a studio here,” says Carson.
Greta smiles. No, I don’t think we could.
“The bedroom is my favorite, come.”
Carson leads her to it, opening the door. It leaves Greta speechless. Yes, it’s definitely the room she prefers the most, too. The bed is huge, bigger than the one in Carson’s apartment, with a floor to ceiling window overlooking a park. Carson remembered. There’s an antique dresser, too, a five-door wardrobe and a door to an en suite bathroom, smaller than the first one.
“The house is furnished, so if you don’t like something, just say it.”
“It’s perfect,” Greta whispers. “Is it really ours?”
“You bet it will.”
“Are you sure?”
“Absolutely.”
“From now on?”
“Since this morning.”
Greta takes off her coat.
She takes Carson’s face in her hands and kisses her as she’s wanted to do for all this time. Carson picks her up effortlessly, laying her down on the bed and telling her how much she loves her. It seemed an eternity since she last told her, but it’s only been 24 hours.
“There’s something I need to tell you before we make love on this bed.”
“I’m listening.”
Greta’s heart is in her throat when she meets Carson’s dark eyes.
“I…” Carson sits up, nervously playing with her hair. “I’m very happy that you like the house, and that you don’t think I’m insane yet—and I really want to start again with you, so…” She fishes her hand under the pillow and pulls out a little black velvet box. “I don’t really know how this works… usually it’s the man that does it but uh, we’re two women, so…”
“Carson—”
“Let me finish. Let me.”
Carson turns her whole body towards her, fidgeting with the box in her hands. “We were never a normal couple.” She laughs, and Greta’s heartbeat picks up. “I’ve come to a point where… I can’t imagine a life without you, Greta. I know I tell you often, but I love you, with all my heart. And since you’ve done so much for me, for us,” she dries a tear that’s falling to her chin, “It’s only right that I take one more important step. We’ve gone through a lot together and we’ve come so far. We’ve both been married, but this is different. And I will understand if you’re not ready to get married yet, we can wait ten more years, I don’t care. So marry me, Greta.” She opens the box in her hands. The ring is simple, a white gold band. “My mom helped me pick it.”
Greta looks at the jewel, then her face. This crazy, crazy woman. She found the time to plan all this and to pick a ring with Marie.
“Of course I will marry you, my love. There’s nothing I want more.”
Greta hugs her tightly, letting Carson slip the ring on her finger. They are each other’s, now more than ever.
They make love so passionately and intensely that they forget the passing of time. The evening is now falling on Lake Valley. Carson’s head is resting on Greta’s belly. Every time she strokes her there Greta gets goosebumps. She can’t imagine how hard her heart is beating, the set of emotions that Greta is feeling in this moment is so confused and strong that it frightens her. She looks down, unconsciously putting a hand on her belly.
Carson doesn’t have the slightest idea of the enormous secret Greta has been keeping from her, although only for a short time. That with her ear, albeit unconsciously, she’s feeling the fruit of their love moving. Their little miracle, which is now only a tiny dot inside of Greta, that will keep on growing until one day she will hold it in her arms.
“I love you,” she says, out of nowhere. Greta smiles, kissing Carson’s furrow. She’ll never get tired of worshipping her body with her lips. “Don’t say anything, I just wanted you to know, to hear it one more time.”
Carson smiles her brilliant smile and decides to kiss her again. Greta shudders, but it’s the good kind of shiver.
They remain in that position for long minutes, until Carson whispers, “We should go out to dinner tonight. To celebrate a new beginning.”
“That’s a good idea,” Greta says, before tiredness hits her like a wave. She’d much rather spend the night here with Carson feeding her on the bed. “But I’m kinda cranky from the flight. Can we just spend the night in and order take away? We can keep celebrating tomorrow.”
Greta wraps her arms around Carson’s neck, feeling their chests press together. Isn’t skin to skin contact the most perfect thing ever? They’re still half-dressed and the bed is a mess. But it’s theirs.
“God, not even half an hour in this house and we’ve already christened the bed.”
“And we’re gonna christen every surface,” Carson says, malicious and sweet, biting Greta’s lip.
Greta has to suppress the desire to start all over again what they just concluded. God, this woman. She’ll never tire of desiring her.
“What would you like to order, future Mrs. Shaw?” Greta’s breath catches. She’d never thought of this possibility. Carson hesitates: “Too much?”
“No. I love the sound of it.” She chuckles as she threads her fingers between Carson’s hair, bending her neck and leaving free access to her skin for those tireless, talented lips. “I’m craving pizza.” She’s craving a lot more than that. “But I don’t know any places around here. Surprise me.”
During dinner, a drop of tomato sauce gets on Greta’s hoodie. Greta gets up in a hurry, but changing is not her priority right now—it’s to reach the toilet. It turns out that morning sickness is not exclusive to the morning. She heaves a little, wiping her mouth before rinsing her face.
“Hey you, little miracle, I don’t want any more surprises tonight. I won’t drink wine or eat sushi, as your grandma recommended. What do you say? Is that a reasonable agreement?”
The truth is Greta was ecstatic when she found out. Their doctor called, the sweetest OBGYN they could’ve asked for, and told Greta the good news. Carson wasn’t home, so Greta had to sit with the realization for a while. Obviously she wouldn’t be showing for a while, but the first symptoms were making her feel uneasy already. Knowing she’d have Carson by her side was comforting enough. So Greta spent the rest of the day in a haze, wandering around the house, giving extra cuddles to Bonnie and Lucky, both of which acted differently, more protectively towards her. Maybe animals could really understand it before humans. And then when Carson got home, they had dinner and made love and fell asleep naked in each other’s arms. There was something holding Greta back; too much fear or excitement. Fear that this could vanish at any moment—there’s no surety she’ll carry this pregnancy to term. Fear of Carson’s reaction, even though this is something they both want. Fear of it becoming too real. But then again, isn’t this what she’s always wanted? For it to be real? She can feel something shift inside herself. She’ll be growing another body and another heart.
+
In the meantime they complete their move and take a step forward to live this new chapter of their life. It was hard to leave her students, but Esti’s class, her favorite, graduated a year ago and Greta is not attached to these students that she’s had for only a year. Both she and Carson start to work for the same high school and the transfer process goes smoothly. But in eight or nine months Greta will have to stop working. For now, it sounds pretty exciting. After working a sixty-hour work week, grading dozens of essays and tests, Greta is too exhausted to consider why it might be a bad idea. For four years, she gave everything she had to Rockford High, her job, her students. Seventy-hour work weeks and spending every lunch period helping seniors with their college essays; finishing up tests and assignments and lesson plans until late at night—she got a new prescription for her glasses and a wrist brace for her carpal tunnel. Caring so much about every kid in her classrooms, she didn’t have the capacity for anything else. She didn’t even have time for friends… teaching was her whole life. It was safe and structured and a distraction, a place where she could have total control. She doesn’t know who she is if she’s not a teacher. But surely she’ll find out.
So Greta lives with this secret, trying to find the perfect moment to tell Carson, even though the perfect moment never seems to come. She likes the idea of it being her own secret, at least for a while. Of this moment being private, only for herself.
The beginning of everything was a Friday morning, when she realized she was late. It never happened, her period was just like her: punctual as a Swiss watch. That seemed strange, but it was coincidental enough to blame it on stress, and then the call from their OBGYN confirmed it. When she looked again in the bathroom mirror, Greta smiled at herself. There was clearly something different about her: her eyes were shining, she was radiant. So she went to Carson, kissed her and dragged into the shower without saying anything.
The next day she bought a pregnancy test—a little silly, since she got confirmation from a literal doctor. But she needed to experience it for herself, needed to see those two lines forming in front of her eyes. She needed tangible proof. Waiting for those few minutes was one of the most stressful moments of her life; and what if it was all a big mistake, like the universe pulling a big joke on her? What if she was deluding herself about something that will never be? It was her mind talking, and she hated it when it became her own enemy, so Greta let herself cry, to release the tension and hidden emotions. She took a deep breath, repressed any negative thoughts and only then she took the courage to see the test: positive. She remembers crying again, like she’d never cried before—of an indescribable joy, a desire to scream, to thank the world that this had happened precisely to her, with the most perfect person by her side. Good things happen to good people, Carson told her once. Greta struggled to believe it for so long.
After that, she decided to call Marie, finally in remission and cancer-free. Greta felt a little bad telling her before Carson, but having finally the opportunity to talk with someone she knew she could trust, she cried into the phone and then she cried into Marie’s arms.
“I knew it would happen sooner or later, a mother can feel it. Congratulations, sweetheart, I’d love to be there to see Carson’s face when you tell her but believe me, it will be worth it to have this moment of intimacy.”
Greta confided each one of her insecurities to her, every fear, every doubt about pregnancy, and wondered several times if she was able to go through it all and raise a little human being, giving them the love of a mother she always lacked. Except she now had Carson and Marie. Marie did not hesitate a second before telling her that she had all it takes to become a good mom, that she and Carson will be the best parents ever, even though they will make mistakes because everyone makes mistakes with their children. It’s part of the job; being scared all the time and doing it anyway. The only problem would be to survive the nights with the lack of sleep. Greta laughed, before she began to ask her any kind of advice about what she thought could be useful. Sharing her joy with Marie was something she couldn’t explain, something she had never had and was enormously grateful for. That woman was, along with Carson, her point of reference, a safe haven on which she could always rely. More than a mother-in-law, a real mother.
By the time she found out about the pregnancy, Greta had endured months of previous appointments, blood work, injections and calls, on top of working almost every day. Her entire year had been spent reading books, researching articles, statistics, pros and cons, percentages. Carson had been so thoughtful, so rational yet bordering on neurotic it made Greta worry. Their doctor was so hopeful, but Greta didn’t dare hope for too much in case things went wrong.
It’s been less than a year since their decision, since their first visit. Now, Greta has been eating less because she’s feeling a new kind of fullness. She’s been keeping too many secrets from Carson. Hiding the most important thing in her life—their life—from the person she loves the most. How is she finding the strength to do that? How has she been keeping her mouth shut for two weeks?
Until one day Greta wakes up from a dream, a dream of their wedding with their little miracle as the ring bearer. And nothing has felt more right. She sits up, touching her belly and smiling. She feels it’s gotten bigger, even though Carson hasn’t commented on it. It’s softer, like when she’s about to get her period. But now she’s not gonna get it for nine months.
“Hello, little miracle,” she whispers, tears clouding her sight.
She’s never spoken to something that’s not there yet. Just a little seed of hope. When she was a child, she’d pretend to talk to someone, an imaginary friend whenever she felt most alone. But this is different, this is not a figment of her imagination; the miracle that’s growing inside her is real, even if she still struggles to believe it.
“We’re going to see Mom, we have a lot to tell her,” Greta says. “I love you, little miracle, you know that?” She smiles, hugging her belly. “I love you with all my heart. I promise that I will give you all the love you need and there won’t be one moment where you will feel alone. I’ll protect you from everything, and so will your other mom. Just wait until I tell her about you and she’ll go crazy, you’ll see,” she chuckles.
She quickly puts on her clothes and walks out of the bathroom. Carson is in the kitchen, in their beautiful kitchen furnished impeccably, with a huge oven (the first thing that, honestly, impressed her most) with which she can bake dozens of goods. Carson is wearing her white bathrobe and pouring wine into two glasses. Oh, shit.
“Miss Gill,” she whispers, noticing Greta, “Any second thoughts about going out to dinner? Would you rather stay home and... go straight to dessert?”
She offers her a glass, a glass of excellent aged Merlot kindly given to them by Marie, as a welcome wish for the new house. To avoid arousing suspicion, Greta takes the glass, letting the sweet taste of her favorite wine enter her nostrils. God, what would she give to taste it…
Don’t worry, Little Miracle, I’m not seriously thinking about it.
She sees Carson wet her lips with that red nectar and feels a shiver of envy run through her. If Greta has a weakness, besides chocolate, it’s red wine. Especially when aged.
“You won’t drink it?” Carson asks, distracting her from her thoughts.
“You know, I thought,” Greta starts, a little too high pitched, trying to change the subject, “We could take a walk in the park, under the city lights, and... eat a hot dog.” She shrugs her shoulders.
“A hot dog? Really?” Carson laughs. “Is this your idea of celebration?”
“Well, it’s something different. I miss eating junk food sometimes.”
A memory comes to Greta’s mind. She remembers the first time Carson took her out to dinner at that Mexican restaurant. That night she whispered to her to take her to bed. The night that, in hindsight, might have started it all. But now she has one more reason to fuel her hunger.
They walk hand in hand around town, stopping by a street vendor to get hot dogs and French fries. Carson leads her to the nearest park, lit up by nothing but moonlight and some streetlights. She’s chosen perhaps the quietest part of town and Greta is grateful: she’s always hated chaos, prefers silence and calm instead. There’s not even much car traffic.
“Look.”
She points to a small playground, completely deserted. She smiles back at Carson as she lets go of her hand, but does not take her eyes away from hers. She goes to sit on one of the swings, her feet grazing the ground. Her legs are too long. Carson stands in front of her, watching her look up at the starry sky and smile.
“When I was a kid, the swing was my favorite. I always went to the park with Jo; she would push me for minutes and in those moments I felt like I could fly. Every time it was like touching the sky. I forgot everything; my parents, homework, school. I was light as the wind and free.” She smiles, leaning her head on the rope. “My neighbor built one in the communal garden, but my mother had it removed just a week later. She said that it was distracting and... it was a stupid game.”
Greta’s stomach twitches for a second, wanting to go back and embrace that lonely, wounded child. The one with the messy curls and the huge glasses. Greta grabs onto both ropes and looks at Carson, with those same big eyes.
“Will you push me, Carson?”
Carson smiles and Greta’s heart melts. She’s looking back with glistening eyes, full of life. She nods and positions herself behind Greta. She puts her hands on her back and pushes her forward: one, two, three, four times until she’s gaining enough speed to go alone, tucking her legs to swing better. Carson starts laughing behind her, and Greta swears she can live her whole life without needing anything else.
“I feel dizzy,” Greta says. “Okay, I’m getting off now.”
She stops moving her legs and in a few seconds her feet touch the ground. She gets up, finding Carson’s strong arms holding her, while still choking her laughter against her chest. A rush of nausea comes from her stomach.
“Are you alright, love?”
“No.”
Please not now. I promise I’ll eat healthy from now on. Please, please—
Greta throws up the contents of her stomach behind a bush, her prayers unanswered. Carson holds her hair back and comforts her. She actually feels better after, the gnawing feeling calmed down.
“I shouldn’t have gone on the swing right after eating.”
They walk back home in silence.
+
Greta feels infinitely better since she found out the benefit of afternoon naps. Besides, she’s more sleepy now. She still has to tell Carson. Is she going to be Mama and Carson Mom? Or the other way around? Maybe they’ll let their child decide. She can’t wait to find out. She pads downstairs, finding Carson at the stove.
“Hello, love,” she says with a smile. “Was your nap good?”
“The best.”
Carson smiles again at her and Greta’s heart skips a beat; why does seeing her always have the same effect?
“Why so much affection, love? Not that I mind.”
It’s time.
“Let’s sit down so I can tell you.”
Carson lowers the flame and leaves the pot roast to cook. The table’s already set. They sit down on the couch, finally big enough to fit more than two people, with an adorable fake chimney shining warmth and orange light on them.
“Did something happen?” Carson asks.
“Nothing to worry about.” Greta takes her hand, trying to calm herself down.
“Is it because you threw up yesterday? Maybe I can go get you something at the pharmacy, maybe you got a bug.”
Carson strokes her shoulders, drawing little soothing circles with her thumbs.
“No, I don’t think that’s the case.”
Greta smiles. It’s time. Her heart is beating wildly as she imagines her little miracle doing somersaults. “There’s something I haven’t told you.” She bites her lip as Carson raises an eyebrow. “I’m pregnant.”
There she feels it again, that feeling of lightness, of freedom. For a long, endless moment silence reigns, settling around them, and the smile on Greta’s face loses its force. Carson is not reacting. Maybe she’s not happy, maybe she’s waited too long to tell her—
“You—” Carson says, her brown eyes wandering everywhere, “How… I mean, I thought that, that it would take more than one try…”
“I know, me too. That’s why it was such a surprise.” Greta feels Carson’s fingers caress her jaw, but she’s too focused on holding back tears. “I still can’t believe it. I took half a dozen tests. Every morning for the past week, I got up and ran to the bathroom to do another one, to see if it was still positive. I may have told your mom already. It’s our little miracle, Carson. Right here. And it’s real.”
Greta takes Carson’s hand and carries it to her belly, watching their hands together where their child will be growing. Greta feels something wet land on her hand. Tears. Carson’s.
“Say something, please.”
“I—I don’t know what to say… I just…”
Carson is visibly shocked, smiling like Greta has never seen her before, her eyes filled with tears that look like precious little diamonds in the twilight. Without warning, she pulls Greta to herself and squeezes her a little too hard, her face in the hollow of her neck, choking every sob as she lets go.
“I love you so much, Greta. I can’t believe it.”
Greta wants to cry too, but holds it together. It’s funny how she’s always been the one being comforted by Carson and now she’s doing the same. So Greta wipes her tears and kisses her, tasting her salty lips.
“I love you,” she says before another kiss. “I love you,” and another, “I love you,” and another. “And our little miracle loves you, too. Do you like this nickname?”
“Little miracle sounds about right.” She shakes her head. “And I thought we’d call it Lightning or Rudolph.”
Greta laughs so hard she has to put a hand on her stomach to stop. She couldn’t be happier. She has everything she’s ever wanted, even what she imagined she wouldn’t have. Perhaps, after all, somewhere up there, someone is rooting for her and for her little family. The one they will build together and protect, the family who promises to repay them with all the love in the world.
+
They hold their intimate wedding ceremony here, where their closest friends shed joyful tears that the women they love are so in love with each other. Greta gets married with a soft bump. Just a special day to celebrate without all the fuss of a big loud wedding. It’s their choice. They host their party in the garden, and hire a marquee, a caterer and a bar for the occasion. They couldn’t ask for a prettier backdrop than the one they have naturally.
Their neighbourhood is also very nice. When Greta was little, she thought most people lived in a house like hers—she thought it was “normal”. Things got a bit tighter after her mom went into full-time care, they had to pay extra to put her in the best rehab center. Carson’s neighbourhood back in Rockford was many levels beyond that. The houses slowly got bigger and more similar until you couldn’t distinguish them anymore. But she can see now that she and Carson have it really good compared to a lot of people. They were able to complete the house payment here in Lake Valley and that makes them really lucky. It isn’t a manor or anything, but it is really big and has a garden where Carson is planning to build a pool. Greta specifically knew that homes in this area cost a fortune because she saw them on a website and concluded that she would never be able to afford anything like it. And yet Carson has made all her wildest dreams come true.
+
“I can’t wait to meet them, you know?” Greta says, putting a hand on Carson’s face to tickle her chin. She’s entered the second trimester.
Carson smiles lovingly, stroking her belly. “Me neither.”
It’s always exciting to talk about the fruit of their love.
“I want to teach them how to play baseball, how to read, maybe even how to bake.”
Greta feels like laughing and crying. She blames it on the hormones; Carson must have gotten used to it now. But it’s not just those pregnancy hormones: it’s pure love for the love of her life, for the future they can plan together and that she looks forward to.
“I think it’s going to be a boy. What do you feel? No thinking, just feel.”
“Mmh… my gut says girl. And she is literally in my gut, so. Would you be happy, with a girl?”
“Of course I would be.”
Carson bends down to kiss her, blinking several times to make the tears go away. Greta looks into her hazelnut eyes and something inside her beats stronger. She can’t even explain it but she knows they will have a girl. She doesn’t want to say it too loud because it might still be too soon.
“Either way,” Carson says to her belly, “I will protect you, always, from the whole world.”
Nights during the second trimester are the hardest, because Greta often suffers from insomnia and nausea. The baby also seems to kick her right in the bladder every hour. But it’ll be worth it. She just fears she’ll go a bit insane. On one particularly frustrating and sleepless night, Greta locks herself in the bathroom to give room to her tears. Any sound from the inside will be muffled by the fan.
“Greta. Let me in,” Carson says from outside.
Fuck. She hoped she wouldn’t wake Carson. It’s all for nothing, because Greta actually forgot to lock the door, so Carson just opens it anyway and lets herself in. There are further screams of protest, but thankfully Carson has learned to deal with her when she’s this emotional. God, these hormones are killing her. Greta is sitting on the floor between the toilet and the rim of the tub, and she probably looks a mess too. A disaster. Like she did last night when she cried. Which is to say, she probably looks absolutely disgusting. Gone forever is the perfect Greta, nicely dressed and elegant, never slouching, her hair always in place and makeup on point. Now, her hair is falling out of her braid in greasy chunks, and her skin is both horribly sunburned and somehow breaking out at the same time. She must be ridiculous.
“You can’t be in here!” she croaks.
“Trust me, this isn’t my ideal way of spending the night. But you’ve got to try to get some liquids down.”
“No,” Greta says again, her head lolling to the side pathetically.
“I’ll get us juice. Don’t go anywhere.”
They sit on the bathroom floor until Greta’s sickness has calmed down, and Lucky keeps them company, as moral support.
+
“I thought you might be here,” Carson says, eyes narrowed as she walks into the illuminated kitchen.
Greta probably woke her while getting up, but it’s not her fault: the sixth month has brought upon frequent cravings. She rummaged through the fridge and found her prey: a strawberry cake that Marie made. Carson catches her at the table, eating the cake directly with a fork. She looks like she’s holding in a laugh.
“Now you’re a sleepwalker?”
“Nope. I did this completely awake. Your daughter wanted strawberries and nothing was gonna get in her way.”
“Huh. Quit blaming everything on the baby.”
“I’m not. She’s literally driving me crazy. Be grateful I’m only eating cake and not, like, smashing plates.”
Carson sits down next to her.
“You don’t wanna go back to bed?”
“Might as well keep you company.”
Greta smiles. She knows she’s not alone in this. Carson has been taking on most work and house tasks. Greta’s fingers are dirty with chocolate icing and Chantilly cream, while she cuts another slice and takes the strawberry between her lips.
“I can’t explain but that was so attractive.”
Greta glares; chomping down on cake must not be that sexy. Greta is now hyper aware of Carson staring at her and she drops the slice into the plate.
“Am I getting too fat?”
“What?”
“I mean I know gaining weight is normal and okay but what if I’m eating too many sweets?”
“Greta—”
“No, stop pretending. The way you look at me suggests that in a couple months you won’t even touch me.”
“Will you stop talking nonsense and saying such stupid things? Greta, you look beautiful. Gaining weight is normal and expected. You’re just making sure our baby girl is healthy and satisfied. I know hormones are rattling your head. I want you now just like I wanted you a year ago and six months from now. I will always find you beautiful and desire your body. I want you so much I would take you on this table, then bring you to bed to make love with you until dawn, then do the same thing tomorrow.”
Carson takes her face in her hands and kisses her softly. “You taste so good.”
Greta smiles up at her, raising an eyebrow defiantly as she picks up a strawberry from the cake. She puts it to Carson’s lips and watches the way her eyes light up.
“Uh-uh,” Greta says, taking the fruit away as Carson is about to bite into it. “Choose. Me or the strawberry.”
“Are you kidding?”
Greta shakes her head. “Don’t try your luck, Shaw.”
Then she puts the tip of the strawberry to her mouth, twirling it between her lips and takes the smallest bite, looking Carson straight in the eye, making sure she has a bite too. Carson is completely enraptured in her movements. As if reading Greta’s mind, Carson presses their lips together—sweet, wet and delicious, feeling the taste of strawberries when their tongues tangle.
“So my wife prefers a strawberry to me, huh?” Carson pretends to be angry, slowly unbuttoning her own shirt. She smiles one of those little smiles that screams victory on all fronts.
“Perhaps. Why, what do you offer me?”
Carson picks her up and props her on the counter, kissing her with a passion that makes her breathless. She’s so in love with her, it makes her crazy the way she reacts when provoked.
“You have no idea how much I want you, my love,” she whispers in her mouth, and Greta has to take a few seconds to move her eyes from her lips.
“Then take me to bed,” she says, more serious than ever.
She wants it too, three weeks spent without feeling her body against Carson’s have been torture. She wants it more than ever.
“Are you sure—”
“Nothing will happen. The baby and I are stronger now. You can touch me, kiss me, make love to me all night.”
She can read the desire in Carson’s face. Slowly, with extreme delicacy, careful not to hurt her in any way, she lifts her up, as she did on their first wedding night.
Greta laughs as she hides her face against her neck. “Am I not heavy?”
“Oh yeah, I thought I’d drop you right here, what do you say?”
Greta feels Carson’s hands slowly let go of her and then quickly pull her up again, making her jump and laugh at the same time.
“Never do that again.”
+
Months pass and Greta’s stomach swells until it pops out. Inside of her, their child is swimming fiercely, kicking and pushing like she wants to claw her way out. In public, Greta gasps and staggers to the side, clutching her belly and hissing through her teeth to little one to stop. Once, she stumbles during a walk in the park, the same park near their house, and she goes to her knees, breathing heavily. A woman passing by helps her to sit up and gives her some water, telling her that the first pregnancy is always the worst, but they get better with time. First and last, Greta thinks.
It is the worst, but for so many reasons besides her altered form. She sings and reads to her child. She’ll have no siblings, but Greta knows that she’ll take great care of her. Her body changes in ways she doesn’t expect: her breasts are large and hot, her stomach lined with pale stretch marks. She feels monstrous sometimes, but her wife seems renewed with desire. And Greta’s body responds: she is marked by a new and ferocious want, leaving her wet and swollen at the slightest provocation.
“I am the luckiest woman alive,” Carson says, running her hands across Greta’s stomach.
+
Greta goes into labor in the middle of the night, every inch of her insides twisting into a painful knot. She screams like she hasn’t screamed in her entire life while they ride to the hospital. The knowledge that her child is coming is dismantled by the agony. She’s in labor for so many hours. She nearly wrenches off Carson’s hand, howling obscenities that shock her but not the nurse. The doctor is patient. They keep telling her to breathe, but that only makes her angrier. She looks at Carson, who kisses her forehead and asks the doctor what’s happening with a panicked face.
“I don’t think this will be a natural birth,” the gynecologist says. “We may have to deliver the baby surgically.”
Greta wakes to white walls and starched sheets and the unmistakable smell of a hospital—that horrible mix of sterile and sick. She opens her eyes, not with little effort, and takes a moment to remember where she is. White light from the half-open dusty blinds reflects on the walls. Sunlight streams through a narrow window, hurting her eyes. A woman in a white coat stands beside the bed, clipboard in hand, the scratch of her pen almost drowned out by the beep of the monitors.
“You’re awake,” she says, her voice muffled.
A nurse is adjusting something at the foot of her bed. There is very little pain, which surprises Greta. To be honest, she’s not feeling much of anything. They must have given her the strong painkillers.
“Are you back with us, sweetheart?” the nurse asks, coming closer and leaning over her
Greta’s mind cranks slowly back up, trying to locate the doctor’s name. Carson… no, Carson is her wife.
“How are you feeling?”
Greta nods. “Mhmpf.” Her body is a dead weight. She forces a swallow through her dry throat. “Okay,” she croaks. At least, she hopes so.
The nurse seems satisfied with the answer. Greta would really like to take a shower. She has tubes coming out of her body, she’s been cracked open and stitched up, but she’s alive. Breathing.
“Just remember, you’re not going to feel great for a while. Take it easy, be kind to yourself, Mama. No lifting heavy weights, no running, no sex.” The nurse squeezes her arm. “I’ll see you later. Get some rest.” She disappears behind the door with a click.
Greta adjusts herself in the bed. Pain flares in her bones. Everything hurts. She breathes in, then grimaces. But it’s going to be worth it. Soon, her days of hospital wards and waiting rooms will be over. The sound of the damn machine to her left gives her a headache.
What does she remember?
She remembers going into labor at home. She remembers panicking while Carson went into full parent mode. They rushed to the hospital, checked on her, told her she wasn’t dilated enough. She felt like a puppet whose limbs were all being pulled at the same time, trying to rip herself from the inside out. She sent Carson home to get their bags for the hospital stay. Then, the doctors announced she was ready before Carson came back. She yelled at an old lady in the hallway: “Ma’am, if you see my wife, tell her I’m here giving birth!”
The lady looked at her like she was crazy and said, “Ma’am, how the fuck am I supposed to know who your wife is?”
Which—fair. She was a stranger. Greta was panicking.
She remembers the contractions leading to ten centimeters. The feeling of complete hopelessness. The nurses screaming, “You can do it alone, honey!”
Then, the light. Carson, finally. Her vision blurred, needles were stuck in her, people touching every part of her body. Doctors trying to rush Carson out, confused, terrified. Why, if everything was going alright? She doesn’t remember anything else.
Greta tries to formulate a coherent thought, but all she can think about is Where is everyone? She chances a look to her right. An empty bed. No bassinet. No baby. The nurse comes back with a jump in her step.
“She’ll be happy you’re awake.”
The nurse juts a thumb over her shoulder. The she in question is asleep in a chair right outside the room. Greta knows Carson is in deep sleep because her head is propped back against the wall and she’s snoring not too gracefully.
Her vision goes black once again.
Joy pervades Greta’s body the moment she wakes up because she hears a cry resounding in the room, as if the walls were about to crumble. It’s a loud, healthy, beautiful cry.
“She was so eager to see you,” Carson says, stepping inside with a bundle in her arms.
Apparently she had trouble proving it, because she decided to stay warm and comfortable in her mother’s belly beyond the due date set by the gynecologist.
“I cut her umbilical cord!” Carson exclaims. She can’t stop smiling. “I kinda hesitated at first, but it was really cool.”
Greta looks at the squirming alien in Carson’s arms. Carson was the first to hold her. Greta tries to look at the tiny being she has helped create. She’s all red and wrinkly.
“So everything’s alright?” she asks. “I woke up alone.”
“Yeah. They decided a C section was the best for both of you, but now you’re coming off the anesthesia and the baby is cleaned up. Yes, everything’s alright. Do you feel okay?”
“Mhm-mh. Everything aches everywhere.”
Carson catches the tears that Greta doesn’t even realize she’s releasing. It must be the shock of it all. She looks down at those sweet little eyes held in two slits that don’t allow her to know the color. And… so much hair. Really, so much dark hair—Greta can’t believe it. The baby’s lips fold and pucker.
“Oh my god, she has your dimple,” Greta says, crying again, like they’ve just told her the most important thing. Seeing a newborn with a cheek dimple might be the cutest thing she’s ever seen.
The baby is still too little to tell correctly, but seeing their daughter share their traits makes it all more special. She was made by them.
“Do you feel strong enough?”
Greta has never felt stronger.
“Here, baby,” Carson whispers. “There’s your Mama.”
Carson places the little bundle in Greta’s trembling arms, and it’s in this moment that she realizes that nothing will ever be more important than this. The baby’s fingers curl around her locks of hair, and her sharp little nails dig into Greta’s skin. Carson squeezes Greta’s shoulder and kisses her forehead, whispering once more how much she loves them.
“She’s beautiful.”
“Lily,” Greta says. “Do you like it?”
“Lily… yes. It’s perfect.”
A tear goes down Greta’s cheek. “Lily Marie Shaw.”
Tears come back down Carson’s eyes uncontrollably, and they increase when Carson takes them both in her arms so they’re both holding their little angel, so delicate she feels like crystal. She smells good, clean, like a newborn. A smell Greta will never forget. She smiles at the little face, scrunched up but peaceful and lays a kiss on her chubby cheek. She’s asleep, she doesn’t want to risk waking her. But then she feels it: the little hand moves up to grab the tip of her nose, as if she was trying to make contact with her. Greta pulls down her hospital gown and immediately, like a light is guiding her, the baby attaches herself to her breast. She nurses. Greta doesn’t know if she has enough milk, but she suckles just the same. Her gums catch and it hurts but Greta wouldn’t want her to stop, because she’s her mother. She presses her lips to her forehead and rocks her back and forth. She is real and she is solid in her arms.
“You did so good, Greta, that was the bravest thing I’ve ever seen.”
She’s whispering hello and I love you and my baby over and over again. Greta’s voice is just a faint breath by now. She’s exhausted, having trouble keeping her eyes open, but she still wants to resist to see more of her baby.
+
To welcome them at home, their dog’s familiar bark. Bonnie is a little more suspicious of his human sibling. Carson puts down the hospital bags to bend over and pet them, while Greta goes to sit on the couch with Lily.
“You guys will meet your new little sister soon,” Carson says. “My love, can I leave you alone for a minute while I put these back in the wardrobe?”
Greta nods, tired but happier than she’s ever been. Carson has taken such good care of them, not only now but during nine long months. She couldn’t have chosen a better person to have a child with. During their hospital stay, Carson slept in a cot next to Greta’s bed and woke up at every noise from the baby.
Now Greta is nursing the baby, with a purple blanket wrapped around her fragile little body. They’ve chosen the blanket together, before Lily was even born. It’ll be her first blanket. Greta can already tell this baby is a foodie like her mothers.
The baby, it turns out, is fussy because she’s allergic to every kind of milk they’ve tried giving her. Carson has been buying it in milk and then throwing it away. The doctor says it’s more common than they think, but seeing her baby crying desperately breaks Greta’s heart in two. Plus, Greta’s body doesn’t supply enough milk, so that makes her feel even worse. She’d twist her body in half if it meant being able to feed her baby and not feel guilty about it.
“I’m just sad I won’t be able to breastfeed her for long, I feel like I’m failing her.”
“Baby, we’ve talked about this. There is nothing you could do to fail her. And this is not your fault. She won’t remember what milk she’s drinking, as long as she has a full stomach and two parents who will make her feel loved. Okay?”
“Yeah. Ugh, she’s so fussy today. I hate seeing her in pain.”
They take turns feeding Lily at night because, as Carson says, “You need your sleep more than me. She’s gonna be okay with a little baby formula. It’s not like she can tell the difference.”
Greta pauses for breath when Lily finally stops crying. Poor thing, she’s gotten tired. Orange light streaks the sky outside of the window. Greta takes Carson and Lily in again—her reflection into their eyes, all of her emotions and pain and the truth of two mothers, the honest truth of them. Greta feels a jolt. Then the screaming begins again, but she can endure it because of that one precious moment, that break. Her tolerance is fresh again, her love renewed. If Lily gives her a smile every other day or so, she’ll be fine. She can do this. She can be a good mother along with Carson. She brushes her finger along her wavy hair and sings her a song from her childhood.
+
“Lucky, my faithful companion,” Carson says theatrically as she pets the dog.
She and Greta have returned from a well deserved, much needed SPA day. It was Marie’s gift for them. Lucky stares at Greta for a long moment, with those languid brown eyes that express tenderness and desire to cuddle more than the wagging tail does.
“Did you protect our treasure at the cost of your life?” Greta asks him, and he woofs, licking his nose.
It almost looks like a nod. Greta smiles at the thought that perhaps this is his way of answering her. He must have noticed they don’t have as much time for him, but he’s adapted pretty well.
“Shhh,” Marie says, raising a finger to her mouth. “I’ve just managed to put her to sleep. God, she needs constant rocking.”
“She’s a baby, mom. Every time she leaves Greta’s arms it’s like the world is ending. I didn’t think she’d have a preference so soon.”
“Carson, I’m not her favorite—”
“Relax, honey. I know. I read up that newborns can’t really tell the difference between them and you. So that’s normal.”
Marie has made dinner for them. Her help has been essential and enormous. Greta feels bad that Lily won’t have any grandparents except for Marie, but she’s sure as hell the three of them will never make her feel a lack of love.
Her phone rings while at the dinner table, and even though Greta knows it’s impolite, something in her tells her to pick it up. So she does. Weirdly, it’s an unknown number.
“Hello? Who’s calling?”
“Hello. Is this Greta Gill speaking?”
“Yes.”
“Uh—I’m sorry to deliver the news but I’m afraid there’s been an accident on the highway and two cars exploded. Vernon Hamster has died. I’ve been told to inform any relatives and the police gave me your number.”
“Oh, God, Carson,” Greta says, ending the call.
Carson gets up so fast the chair scrapes on the floor. “What is it, baby?”
“I… I think Vernon is dead.”
Marie gasps loudly. “God.”
Yes. Greta should invoke him. A feeling so strange engulfs her—anxiety, but mostly relief. Between other emotions, she can definitely distinguish relief.
“I hated that car,” Greta sobs.
Carson’s arms are holding her up. She hated him so much, too. Now they’ve both gone on fire. What he deserves. Carson had suggested they moved to Idaho to start a new life, but he was the only one imposing danger. Now they really can turn the page.
“This story is over forever,” Carson says. They’re both on the floor. “Forever. It’s done. We finally have our life.”
Greta sinks into Carson’s embrace—because in spite of everything, she’s forever her safe place to land.