Archive of Our Own ^beta

It’s over a year after the trial when Marie sees her again.

She’d half-expected Blanca to move out of state. She’d half-expected herself to, honestly, but - Holly. Flynn. Dave. Even, begrudgingly, Skyler. She’s not convinced a feeble attempt at reinventing herself would do anything to fix the cavernous ache in her chest, anyway. Dave had agreed.

So she’s carried on. Work, once her coworkers learned how to act normal around her again, has been her one point of normalcy, the one facet of her life that’s changed so little she can almost pretend it hasn’t changed at all.

It’s become something of a routine. Get up, go to work, pretend everything is fine, pretend Hank will be home for dinner, go home, heat up leftover lasagna, ache, ache, ache.

Marie is hit by a pang of something almost like guilt, just for a second. At least she has her job. Blanca had been a stay-at-home mom. She isn’t supposed to be here at the daycare Marie’s picking up Holly from.

Marie isn’t supposed to be here. Holly isn’t either. She should be at home with her mother, and Marie should be there catching up with her sister without feeling like the tension is going to strangle them both.

Hank and Steve are supposed to be here. But they’re not, and Marie is, and Blanca is.

“Hey,” Marie says, after hesitating a moment too long. She can act like things are some semblance of okay. She’s a natural at that. “Didn’t expect to see you here. Say, how are the kids?”

She doesn’t need to ask how Blanca is. Marie is pretty sure she has an idea, and besides, how are you is a question she’d quickly gotten so tired of hearing from well-meaning acquaintances that if she never hears it again, it’ll be too soon.

Blanca smiles faintly. Marie must have judged correctly. She goes on to tell her all about how eleven-year-old Matty has just hit a growth spurt, how Rosie’s doing so well in math, how Edgar is making fast friends of everyone in his kindergarten class.

There’s something calming in the mundanity of the conversation. Marie has kids in her life, sure, but she only sees Holly on days like today when Skyler desperately needs a babysitter and Flynn spends more time with Louis than his family these days. Blanca’s kids must be having a hard time, too, but that’s not the part Blanca’s telling her about.

Losing a father is easier when you know he died a good person, a treacherous part of Marie thinks, and losing a husband is easier when it wasn’t your brother-in-law who may as well have killed him. She dismisses the thought as soon as it comes. It doesn’t matter. Their grief will never be identical, but they’ll share it for the rest of their lives.

Really, Blanca has every right to resent her. Marie didn’t personally get Steve killed, but maybe she could have saved him. Dave says it isn’t fair for Marie to blame herself for not noticing the signs, for letting Hank and Steve go off alone with their witness, but that doesn’t mean Blanca can’t entertain that thought.

“Marie?” Blanca smiles, and Marie blinks rapidly as she realizes she’s been zoning out to the tranquil cadence of her voice.

“I asked if you wanted to get a coffee sometime,” Blanca repeats.

Marie is pretty sure she’s blushing now.

She should say no. Getting coffee with an acquaintance - a friend? - isn’t a part of her routine. There are books to read. Minerals to rearrange on the coffee table. Old photos to clutch so desperately while she cries she risks ruining them.

“I’d like that,” she says instead, her mouth betraying her brain. It’s worth it, though, for the way Blanca’s smile widens.

Something shoots through Marie’s chest at the sight - pride? She does like to take care of people. She put that smile on Blanca’s face - yes, that must be it. Pride.

Marie’s gaze lingers on Blanca as she leaves. What a strange coincidence.

-

One coffee date turns into another, and another.

Most of the time is spent getting to know each other better. They’d spent plenty of time together with their husbands, but it’s only now that they’ve started spending time alone. Marie learns that Blanca has turned to writing as a creative outlet, at the recommendation of her therapist, and she’s reminded fleetingly of Skyler. But no, Blanca is no replacement for the sister she’s all but lost. This feels entirely different, somehow.

She offers to help with editing anyway, just as she’d once done for Skyler, and Blanca accepts the offer with a warm smile.

It becomes a thing, then - meeting at the same time, same place, every week. Progress is slow, but Blanca feels better just for being able to do something, and Marie finds that helping her lessens the ever-present ache in her chest in a way nothing else does.

Marie’s caught by surprise one day, several months later, when the rising sun catches Blanca at just the right angle and she’s overwhelmed by an urge to reach out and caress her cheek, maybe tuck that errant strand of hair back behind her ear.

And okay, sure, it’s not as if Marie’s never thought another woman was attractive before, maybe even kissed a few. She did go to college. But that was just for fun. It didn’t mean she was - how could she be gay when she’s spent so much of her life loving Hank?

She’s vaguely aware that it’s possible to like both, or any genders, or however Flynn had explained it the last time she saw him. She knows what she feels for Hank is real, but maybe what she feels for Blanca is, too.

Nothing happens that day, but as the weeks go by, Marie notices more and more little impulses just like it. One day she’ll notice Blanca’s gone for a slightly deeper shade of lipstick and imagine what it would taste like on her lips. Another day they’ll make eye contact and Marie is powerless to stop the blush rising to her cheeks. When the characters in Blanca’s novel play out a fantasy in the bedroom she never did get to try with Hank, she wonders if Blanca would be into that.

She’s not going to do anything about these urges, though. Even if - if - Marie were to accept them as something real, it’s not like Blanca feels the same. She was married to a man, too. Just because some primal part of Marie thinks she’s ready to move on doesn’t mean Blanca is.

She reconsiders one day, weeks after Marie’s learned to live with those feelings.

It’s not anything Blanca does, exactly, but when the protagonist of her novel propositions her man for a threesome with another woman, Marie pauses to consider. Would a straight woman write something like this? She doesn’t think Skyler would, but then again, how well does Marie know Skyler anymore?

Marie moves to point out an inconsistency in the scene, her hand brushing against Blanca’s. It’s not intentional, exactly, but she lets it linger. She looks over to Blanca.

“Let me know if I’m reading this wrong,” Marie says. She can’t believe she’s about to do this. She still can’t believe it as she leans in, well past the point that could reasonably be considered platonic, and Blanca meets her halfway. It’s not a deep kiss - they’re in public, after all. The old Marie would have been scandalized to see such a thing in public.

When she pulls back, though, Marie can see Blanca’s smiling back at her, brown eyes shining in the light of the early morning sun. She’s struck by the intensity of her gaze.

“I’ve been hoping you’d feel the same,” Blanca says. “This is - it should be weird, right? But it’s not so weird.”

“It’s not,” Marie agrees.

“Maybe we’re meant to have a second chance. Together.”

Marie’s smiling, too, warmth and hope blossoming in her chest at the thought.

“Let’s do that.”