Together (3/?)
Paco was still staring at her in shock.
Pepa understood. The last time they had had a conversation about babies, after all, she had been adamantly against them. It had led to her and Silvia’s break-up.
A new rush of pain washed through her, and she closed her eyes, waiting for it to pass. The time lost, the opportunities wasted. Would their wedding day have had come to this if Pepa hadn’t been such a pig-headed fool - and on top of that, one who was cursed with verbal diarrhea?
Breath.
Silva is NOT dead.
The wave passed - the hurt was rawer, more tender in it's wake, but her lungs were able to draw full breath again, and her mind was clearer. She turned back to brother.
“Paco, can I sleep in the guestroom? I’m too tired to drive home.”
He stared at her. Still unable to form words.
“I need some sleep, brother. And some food. I’ll tell you about the baby tomorrow.”
He nodded.
Pepa took a moment to think back to what she had read about pre-natal health. Balanced diet - vitamins, folic acid - leafy greens, 20% increase in protein intake….
Pepa was far from hungry. If it just been herself - well, forget about not eating. If she wasn’t pregnant she would be halfway through her second bottle of tequila by now. Trying to forget.
Silvia’s voice again. The tone Pepa had labeled “Dr. Castro”. “Vitamins, Pepa. Protein.” Right.
“You have any ham, Paco?”
He nodded.
“Vitamins?”
He looked lost at that, and Pepa shook her head, dropping the subject. Of course he wouldn’t have any vitamins in the house - or if he did, he certainly wouldn't know where they were.
“Just a few slices of ham then, Paco.” He nodded again, turned to leave, and then turned back to her -bumbling nervously, trying to please.
“Would you also like some melon, hermana? Or… or some olives? I have some Manchego..”
She cut him off before he could offer to make her an omelet as well.
“Melon’s fine, Paco.”
He finally turned and left the bathroom, leaving her alone with her thoughts - and the “Dr. Castro” voice in her head. “Yes, simple carbohydrates are good.”
Pepa slammed her hand down on the sink hard, relishing the sharp sting - the voice fading. Goddamit, if Silvia was going to talk to her in her head, why the fuck was she talking about nutrition!
She heard Paco puttering around in the kitchen, talking to Don Lorenzo in a sotto voice. Goddamn ham. Maybe she should ask for something else.
Tears welled in her eyes again. She had ordered Black Iberian Bellota ham from Jabugo, king prawns, a bottle of ice cold wine and one of sparkling grape juice - nearly the same meal she had set out for them on their first romantic getaway - to be provided in the limousine on the way to the airport. That’s when she was planning on telling Silvia. Her wedding present to her wife.
She looked down at her right hand. Played with the gold band there. It had been self-defense, waiting till they were on their way to their honeymoon. If they had still been at the country house, well, she had feared they would never leave - wouldn't want to - and they would never have been able to take their hands off each other.
A mistake. She should have told Silvia sooner. As soon as she found out the insemination had taken. Or last night at the Cantina. Or, god, after they kissed for the first time as a married couple, under the trellis filled with fragrant flowers.
Silva is NOT dead.
Pepa didn’t know how she knew, didn’t know how Silvia could not be dead. But that didn’t matter.
A tiny voice in the back of her mind screamed at her about denial and improbability and other things she did not want to listen too. Could not afford to listen too.
Pepa pushed the harmful thoughts away. She had to function. She had to find Silvia and be at her side. Silvia needed her and needed her to be strong.
She stared at the haunted woman looking at her from the mirror, sighed and wiped her eyes. Then finally followed her brother to the kitchen to see if he had anything besides ham.
She knew she wouldn’t make the mistake of waiting again. As soon as she found her wife she would hold her and love her and never let them be separated again. And she would tell her about their baby. Silvia’s baby inside of her.
--------------------------------------
Pepa closed her eyes again. Breathed slowly. Did her best to clear her mind. Tried to ignore the entire situation and escape into a world where Silvia was by her side, sleeping peacefully.
It did not work. No matter what she tried, she couldn’t convince herself to fall asleep. Couldn’t manage to fool her brain or even to turn it off.
Pepa knew she needed the rest. Desperately needed the rest. But her life with Silvia, the good times and the bad, played like a movie in her head.
Silvia is NOT dead.
And sleeping in Paco’s guestroom didn’t help either. This had been where Pepa had stayed her first few weeks back in Madrid. This room, this bed, had been where Pepa and Silvia had first made love.
Pepa tugged the pillow closer to her chest, wrapping her arms around it. How could she ever fall asleep without Silvia by her side? The night before had been bad enough - banished to her niece’s couch on the night before her wedding - her arms empty one redhead.
Tonight was even worse. She had no idea where her redhead was. How she was doing. If she was okay. If she was frightened. Whether she was coping with all that had happened.
Pepa placed a hand over her stomach again. Silva’s baby. She smiled. Remembered the night they had decided - their conversation … their lack of conversation.
That morning, Silvia had proposed to her.
To say Pepa had been shocked would be putting it mildly.
For Pepa, it had come out of the blue. Yes, they were back together. And, yes, their relationship was stronger since (because of) their break up. But marriage… Were they ready for it?
Pepa wanted it. She always had. But had decided rocking their happy little boat wouldn’t be for the best. If Silvia still doubted their relationship… Was still afraid to love her openly… Well, Pepa had on the Kidd gloves. She had decided she was not going to push; and would not propose to Silvia. She had lost Silvia once, and she was not going to let that happen again.
She had also decided not to bring up another delicate subject that had been on her mind lately - not the very same one that had cost her her love once. Not now. Not yet.
But then Silvia had proposed to her. Had blown Pepa’s carefully laid strategy of waiting out of the water. Pepa was over the moon, obviously. Her mind had started screaming “Yes!” the moment Silvia had opened the ring box. This was what Pepa had wanted - the first time she had ever wanted this - since first laying eyes on the redhead again after eight years.
And Pepa had thought maybe it was finally time; maybe Silvia was ready for Pepa to make her own proposal. After all, they talked now - about their feelings, their desires, their needs. Pepa did her best to damp down on the impulsiveness, and Silvia on her tendency to jump to conclusions. It didn’t always work - but it was one of the few positive side effects of their time apart.
That night, after Pepa had made passionate love to her fiancé (Her first, her only), as they lay curled together face to face (less then 2 centimeters apart), hands entwined between them, Pepa whispered her desires, her hopes, to her soon-to-be wife.
“Princess. I want to make a baby. With you.”
Silvia’s face lit up and Pepa’s heart skipped a beat. Her shy smile answering Silvia’s wide grin.
They had talked late into the night about it. Hashing out the details together - one of their fatal pitfalls the last time around. Pepa was adamant that since she would be giving birth, she wanted to use Silvia’s genetic material. Their baby would truly be a part of them both.
After teasing Pepa for fifteen minutes that her balls weren’t big enough to produce sperm, (and then a hour in which Pepa showed Silvia just how big her balls really were) Silvia became equally adamant that they use an anonymous sperm donor - not some old boyfriend, or god-forbid, a family member. It would be her and Pepa’s baby - no one elses. The thought of a man they knew sweeping in someday to take their child away from them scared her - and no amount of signed legal papers could banish that fear.
Sometime around dawn, Pepa finally agreed.
They had spent hours and hours researching clinics and methods, visiting sperm banks and discussing the traits of the other half of the genetic material for the child. Tall, dark, and handsome - Silvia had insisted. College educated, from a stable family, artistic, cautious and boring - had been what Pepa had looked for - everything she was not but wished she was. Silvia had overridden her on the boring trait - and they had finally settled on someone that could have literally been Pepa’s twin - nearly. He was a lawyer with FELGT, an artist, an athlete and adventurer. And he was tall, dark, and handsome. One of the clinic’s staff members had muttered something about him being a popular one when they had made their choice, but took one look at Pepa and then again at the file of the man with no name and had nodded approvingly.
Silvia had had a number of her eggs harvested and put in cryostasis. They had agreed to wait until after they were married - until after their honeymoon, until after the mess with the goddamn Italian Mafia had been cleaned up and the danger had passed. But Pepa, hopelessly impulsive despite her all efforts, had gone in herself the next week to get the procedure done. She had wanted to start their family as soon as possible, and had wanted to surprise her wife with her pregnancy as a wedding present.
Once she was there, Pepa had nearly regretted it. She had wished for nothing more than Silvia to be there with her, holding her hand and soothing her silent fears as the procedure took place. She had needed her wife to be there as they created their baby together.
But now the baby was the only thing that was keeping her sane. It was what she focused on when Paco and Don Lorenzo’s cautious monitoring of her condition served to remind her of the reality (and the lies) of the situation. Her wife was alive but everyone around her kept telling Pepa that Silvia was dead. A weaker woman would have gone insane by now.
Indeed, if it wasn’t for the delicate life growing inside of her, Pepa could only imagine where she would be and what she would be doing now. Whatever it was, it would no doubt have been unhealthy and self-destructive and end with Silvia being strongly disappointed in her.
Pepa turned her head toward the window. Dawn was on its way. The sky was no longer pitch black and birds were starting to chirp. Déjà vu washed over her, strong - with tastes and scents and the sensations of a warm body next to her nearly overloading her senses. Their first night together - morning for that matter, as well - was right here. Pepa had woken first, she remembered. Had spent the hour leading up to dawn watching Silvia - drinking her in - before finally having to wake her. Pleasant as the waking was, Pepa had regretted not being able to hold and to watch Silvia like that for the rest of the day.
Silvia played before her mind’s eye again. Glorious and luminous in the throes of an orgasm. Intent, focused, bent over her microscope. Laughing and coy; crying, angry, sad, hurt - and then, without invitation the movie switched - Silvia dying. Bloody and cut open - breath stilling, heartbeat stopping.
Pepa jerked upright, out of the nightmare, reaching for her wife, her other half always at her side, and finding nothing. Clutching her own shoulders instead as she shook and sobbed alone. Finally letting out all her pain and hurt and despair and coming to rest sometime later, quietly curled in the middle of the bed, Silvia still strongly in her thoughts as she prayed to nameless entities for a miracle.
Dawn finally broke. The light hitting her eyes and breaking her from her stupor. And then Silvia’s voice was in her head again. “Get up Pepa. Find me”
So she did. She couldn’t lie on this bed forever, clutching her womb and wishing for Silvia to appear beside her. That was not how Pepa Miranda worked. And furthermore, it was not how the world worked. She needed a plan. Needed to take action. She needed to find her wife. That she had been mopping around all evening, eating melon and thinking about carbs - and lying awake all night, wallowing in misery, was unacceptable. Silvia was not only her wife, but her entire life, and if anyone was going to get her back, it had to be Pepa.
Pepa understood. The last time they had had a conversation about babies, after all, she had been adamantly against them. It had led to her and Silvia’s break-up.
A new rush of pain washed through her, and she closed her eyes, waiting for it to pass. The time lost, the opportunities wasted. Would their wedding day have had come to this if Pepa hadn’t been such a pig-headed fool - and on top of that, one who was cursed with verbal diarrhea?
Breath.
Silva is NOT dead.
The wave passed - the hurt was rawer, more tender in it's wake, but her lungs were able to draw full breath again, and her mind was clearer. She turned back to brother.
“Paco, can I sleep in the guestroom? I’m too tired to drive home.”
He stared at her. Still unable to form words.
“I need some sleep, brother. And some food. I’ll tell you about the baby tomorrow.”
He nodded.
Pepa took a moment to think back to what she had read about pre-natal health. Balanced diet - vitamins, folic acid - leafy greens, 20% increase in protein intake….
Pepa was far from hungry. If it just been herself - well, forget about not eating. If she wasn’t pregnant she would be halfway through her second bottle of tequila by now. Trying to forget.
Silvia’s voice again. The tone Pepa had labeled “Dr. Castro”. “Vitamins, Pepa. Protein.” Right.
“You have any ham, Paco?”
He nodded.
“Vitamins?”
He looked lost at that, and Pepa shook her head, dropping the subject. Of course he wouldn’t have any vitamins in the house - or if he did, he certainly wouldn't know where they were.
“Just a few slices of ham then, Paco.” He nodded again, turned to leave, and then turned back to her -bumbling nervously, trying to please.
“Would you also like some melon, hermana? Or… or some olives? I have some Manchego..”
She cut him off before he could offer to make her an omelet as well.
“Melon’s fine, Paco.”
He finally turned and left the bathroom, leaving her alone with her thoughts - and the “Dr. Castro” voice in her head. “Yes, simple carbohydrates are good.”
Pepa slammed her hand down on the sink hard, relishing the sharp sting - the voice fading. Goddamit, if Silvia was going to talk to her in her head, why the fuck was she talking about nutrition!
She heard Paco puttering around in the kitchen, talking to Don Lorenzo in a sotto voice. Goddamn ham. Maybe she should ask for something else.
Tears welled in her eyes again. She had ordered Black Iberian Bellota ham from Jabugo, king prawns, a bottle of ice cold wine and one of sparkling grape juice - nearly the same meal she had set out for them on their first romantic getaway - to be provided in the limousine on the way to the airport. That’s when she was planning on telling Silvia. Her wedding present to her wife.
She looked down at her right hand. Played with the gold band there. It had been self-defense, waiting till they were on their way to their honeymoon. If they had still been at the country house, well, she had feared they would never leave - wouldn't want to - and they would never have been able to take their hands off each other.
A mistake. She should have told Silvia sooner. As soon as she found out the insemination had taken. Or last night at the Cantina. Or, god, after they kissed for the first time as a married couple, under the trellis filled with fragrant flowers.
Silva is NOT dead.
Pepa didn’t know how she knew, didn’t know how Silvia could not be dead. But that didn’t matter.
A tiny voice in the back of her mind screamed at her about denial and improbability and other things she did not want to listen too. Could not afford to listen too.
Pepa pushed the harmful thoughts away. She had to function. She had to find Silvia and be at her side. Silvia needed her and needed her to be strong.
She stared at the haunted woman looking at her from the mirror, sighed and wiped her eyes. Then finally followed her brother to the kitchen to see if he had anything besides ham.
She knew she wouldn’t make the mistake of waiting again. As soon as she found her wife she would hold her and love her and never let them be separated again. And she would tell her about their baby. Silvia’s baby inside of her.
--------------------------------------
Pepa closed her eyes again. Breathed slowly. Did her best to clear her mind. Tried to ignore the entire situation and escape into a world where Silvia was by her side, sleeping peacefully.
It did not work. No matter what she tried, she couldn’t convince herself to fall asleep. Couldn’t manage to fool her brain or even to turn it off.
Pepa knew she needed the rest. Desperately needed the rest. But her life with Silvia, the good times and the bad, played like a movie in her head.
Silvia is NOT dead.
And sleeping in Paco’s guestroom didn’t help either. This had been where Pepa had stayed her first few weeks back in Madrid. This room, this bed, had been where Pepa and Silvia had first made love.
Pepa tugged the pillow closer to her chest, wrapping her arms around it. How could she ever fall asleep without Silvia by her side? The night before had been bad enough - banished to her niece’s couch on the night before her wedding - her arms empty one redhead.
Tonight was even worse. She had no idea where her redhead was. How she was doing. If she was okay. If she was frightened. Whether she was coping with all that had happened.
Pepa placed a hand over her stomach again. Silva’s baby. She smiled. Remembered the night they had decided - their conversation … their lack of conversation.
That morning, Silvia had proposed to her.
To say Pepa had been shocked would be putting it mildly.
For Pepa, it had come out of the blue. Yes, they were back together. And, yes, their relationship was stronger since (because of) their break up. But marriage… Were they ready for it?
Pepa wanted it. She always had. But had decided rocking their happy little boat wouldn’t be for the best. If Silvia still doubted their relationship… Was still afraid to love her openly… Well, Pepa had on the Kidd gloves. She had decided she was not going to push; and would not propose to Silvia. She had lost Silvia once, and she was not going to let that happen again.
She had also decided not to bring up another delicate subject that had been on her mind lately - not the very same one that had cost her her love once. Not now. Not yet.
But then Silvia had proposed to her. Had blown Pepa’s carefully laid strategy of waiting out of the water. Pepa was over the moon, obviously. Her mind had started screaming “Yes!” the moment Silvia had opened the ring box. This was what Pepa had wanted - the first time she had ever wanted this - since first laying eyes on the redhead again after eight years.
And Pepa had thought maybe it was finally time; maybe Silvia was ready for Pepa to make her own proposal. After all, they talked now - about their feelings, their desires, their needs. Pepa did her best to damp down on the impulsiveness, and Silvia on her tendency to jump to conclusions. It didn’t always work - but it was one of the few positive side effects of their time apart.
That night, after Pepa had made passionate love to her fiancé (Her first, her only), as they lay curled together face to face (less then 2 centimeters apart), hands entwined between them, Pepa whispered her desires, her hopes, to her soon-to-be wife.
“Princess. I want to make a baby. With you.”
Silvia’s face lit up and Pepa’s heart skipped a beat. Her shy smile answering Silvia’s wide grin.
They had talked late into the night about it. Hashing out the details together - one of their fatal pitfalls the last time around. Pepa was adamant that since she would be giving birth, she wanted to use Silvia’s genetic material. Their baby would truly be a part of them both.
After teasing Pepa for fifteen minutes that her balls weren’t big enough to produce sperm, (and then a hour in which Pepa showed Silvia just how big her balls really were) Silvia became equally adamant that they use an anonymous sperm donor - not some old boyfriend, or god-forbid, a family member. It would be her and Pepa’s baby - no one elses. The thought of a man they knew sweeping in someday to take their child away from them scared her - and no amount of signed legal papers could banish that fear.
Sometime around dawn, Pepa finally agreed.
They had spent hours and hours researching clinics and methods, visiting sperm banks and discussing the traits of the other half of the genetic material for the child. Tall, dark, and handsome - Silvia had insisted. College educated, from a stable family, artistic, cautious and boring - had been what Pepa had looked for - everything she was not but wished she was. Silvia had overridden her on the boring trait - and they had finally settled on someone that could have literally been Pepa’s twin - nearly. He was a lawyer with FELGT, an artist, an athlete and adventurer. And he was tall, dark, and handsome. One of the clinic’s staff members had muttered something about him being a popular one when they had made their choice, but took one look at Pepa and then again at the file of the man with no name and had nodded approvingly.
Silvia had had a number of her eggs harvested and put in cryostasis. They had agreed to wait until after they were married - until after their honeymoon, until after the mess with the goddamn Italian Mafia had been cleaned up and the danger had passed. But Pepa, hopelessly impulsive despite her all efforts, had gone in herself the next week to get the procedure done. She had wanted to start their family as soon as possible, and had wanted to surprise her wife with her pregnancy as a wedding present.
Once she was there, Pepa had nearly regretted it. She had wished for nothing more than Silvia to be there with her, holding her hand and soothing her silent fears as the procedure took place. She had needed her wife to be there as they created their baby together.
But now the baby was the only thing that was keeping her sane. It was what she focused on when Paco and Don Lorenzo’s cautious monitoring of her condition served to remind her of the reality (and the lies) of the situation. Her wife was alive but everyone around her kept telling Pepa that Silvia was dead. A weaker woman would have gone insane by now.
Indeed, if it wasn’t for the delicate life growing inside of her, Pepa could only imagine where she would be and what she would be doing now. Whatever it was, it would no doubt have been unhealthy and self-destructive and end with Silvia being strongly disappointed in her.
Pepa turned her head toward the window. Dawn was on its way. The sky was no longer pitch black and birds were starting to chirp. Déjà vu washed over her, strong - with tastes and scents and the sensations of a warm body next to her nearly overloading her senses. Their first night together - morning for that matter, as well - was right here. Pepa had woken first, she remembered. Had spent the hour leading up to dawn watching Silvia - drinking her in - before finally having to wake her. Pleasant as the waking was, Pepa had regretted not being able to hold and to watch Silvia like that for the rest of the day.
Silvia played before her mind’s eye again. Glorious and luminous in the throes of an orgasm. Intent, focused, bent over her microscope. Laughing and coy; crying, angry, sad, hurt - and then, without invitation the movie switched - Silvia dying. Bloody and cut open - breath stilling, heartbeat stopping.
Pepa jerked upright, out of the nightmare, reaching for her wife, her other half always at her side, and finding nothing. Clutching her own shoulders instead as she shook and sobbed alone. Finally letting out all her pain and hurt and despair and coming to rest sometime later, quietly curled in the middle of the bed, Silvia still strongly in her thoughts as she prayed to nameless entities for a miracle.
Dawn finally broke. The light hitting her eyes and breaking her from her stupor. And then Silvia’s voice was in her head again. “Get up Pepa. Find me”
So she did. She couldn’t lie on this bed forever, clutching her womb and wishing for Silvia to appear beside her. That was not how Pepa Miranda worked. And furthermore, it was not how the world worked. She needed a plan. Needed to take action. She needed to find her wife. That she had been mopping around all evening, eating melon and thinking about carbs - and lying awake all night, wallowing in misery, was unacceptable. Silvia was not only her wife, but her entire life, and if anyone was going to get her back, it had to be Pepa.