Vanilla 12, chocolate 22, strawberry 2: So Far, So Good
Title: So Far, So Good
Main Story: In the Heart
Flavors, Toppings, Extras: Vanilla 12 (a storm), chocolate 22 (anticipation), strawberry 2 (curtains), rainbow sprinkles (Gail and Cecily), whipped cream (Ivy in utereo), malt (stocking stuffer: tell me so/tell me don't/tell me everything you know--airmail, tell me so).
Word Count: 1566
Rating: PG-13, for serious discussion of possibly disturbing subjects.
Summary: Gail has a very difficult decision to make. So she calls her sister.
Notes: Title from Vienna Teng's wonderful song Shasta. Also, it occured to me that my first story on here is technically rainbow sprinkles since Ivy's in a supporting role only... can I claim that retroactively? Finally, if you have concrit, I would love it as always.
Sweet Jesus, but she did not want to make this phone call.
Gail sat on her bed and rocked back and forth while she stared at the phone. Ironic, that the hardest call would not be to Brad, or to her parents, but to her little sister.
Or, no, maybe that wasn't ironic. Just pathetic.
She sighed sharply, and picked up the phone, dialling Cecily's number by heart. Better to just get it over with.
Her sister answered quickly, in the brisk, impersonal tone she used for all phone conversations. "Cecily Hirschfeld."
"It's me, Cess," Gail said, and forced a smile. "How are you, sweetie?"
Cecily's voice warmed immediately. "Doing good, doing good. What about you?"
Gail hesitated.
It must have been the uncharacteristic pause that tipped Cecily off. "Oh, God," she said. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing," Gail said, hastily, then amended that to, "Almost nothing. Um."
"Gail," Cecily said, half-snarling.
"I'm pregnant."
Judging from the stunned silence on the other end of the line, Cecily hadn't been expecting that.
Neither had Gail. She'd been so careful, dammit. She took her birth control every day at the same time, used condoms every time, even kept careful track of her body's rhythms and adjusted sex accordingly. But something, somewhere, had gone wrong.
"Oh my God," Cecily said, finally. "Is Brad the father?"
"Cecily!" Gail snapped. "Of course he is!"
Her sister sighed noisily into the phone. "Settle down, I wasn't implying you were cheating, It's just that I thought you were going to dump him three months ago." Her tone was... not disapproving, exactly, but it was getting there.
Gail shifted uncomfortably on the bed. "So did I." She left it at that, and Cecily, fortunately, didn't pry.
Instead, she said, "Okay. Okay. This isn't the end of the world, you know. How far along are you?"
"About six weeks," Gail said. "I had a sonogram yesterday. And I know it's not the end of the world."
Cecily didn't appear to have heard her. "You have options, you know."
"Yeah," Gail said, and swallowed an unexpected lump in her throat. "That's what I wanted to talk to you about, actually."
She could picture her sister nodding, solemn-faced. "I'll go with you," Cecily said. "If you don't want to tell him, if you just want to get it over with. I'll be right with you the whole time if that's what you want to do."
"It would probably be the best thing for everybody," Gail said, very quietly. She looked up at the darkening sky beyond her curtains; it was going to rain.
"Probably," Cecily agreed, her voice subdued. "I mean, this thing with Brad..."
She trailed off, but Gail knew where she was going; the same place Gail herself had gone so many times before, turning it over in her own mind ever since that appointment. "This thing with Brad," as Cecily so diplomatically put it, was going nowhere, because Brad was the least dependable, most infuriating boyfriend she'd ever had. She loved him, and dearly, but she'd always felt just a little bit superior, and she had the sneaking feeling that her love was on the wane, now.
Even if it wasn't, Brad would hardly be a reliable father. She didn't want to inflict that on a child, or on him.
She sniffled back an entirely unreasonable bout of tears.
"It makes sense," she said. "It's what I should do, isn't it?" She could hear the pleading tone in her own voice, and winced.
Cecily was silent for a long moment, then said, "Gail, if you're asking me that, you already know you're not going to."
Gail exhaled, stood, and went to the window, brushing the curtains aside and leaning her forehead against the cool glass. In the distance, lightning flickered from cloud to cloud. "It has a heartbeat, Cess. They showed me, on the monitor."
"You don't have to," Cecily said, gently.
Apparently that was what she'd wanted to hear. Gail exhaled again and stood a little straighter, the curtains brushing against her back as she did. "Then I won't."
After a quiet moment of sympathetic silence, Cecily suggested, "You could put it up for adoption, if you wanted. Have to tell Brad if you go that route, though."
"Mom and Dad, too," Gail said, and shuddered. "Lord, the tongue-lashing I'll get."
"For getting pregnant out of wedlock or picking Brad to do it with?" Cecily asked, dryly.
Gail snorted. "I didn't pick him, it was an accident. I'd've picked Douglas or Paul if I was going to pick someone."
Cecily laughed, a little nervously."Please. Douglas was in college, and Paul is gay. And you didn't love either one of them."
"Liked them a whole hell of a lot more," Gail said. "Cess, I don't want to give it up, either."
She hadn't thought about what she was saying, and didn't entirely realize what she had said until a second stunned silence settled in at the other end of the line. But the more she thought about it, the truer it was. So what if it wasn't the best timing? She had a good, steady job, and plenty of money in the bank. She had a supportive family-- or would have, once her parents got over being angry and Cecily stopped boggling. Even Brad might shape up, when faced with fatherhood.
She wouldn't hold her breath for that. Still.
"Is that really a good idea?" Cecily asked, at last.
"I don't know," Gail said. "That's why I'm asking you. But it feels like a good idea."
"So did dating Brad," Cecily retorted.
Gail snorted again. "Touché." She drew the edge of the curtain up between her fingers and began to fiddle with it. In the distance, thunder rumbled. "You think it's a bad one."
"Of course I think it's a bad idea," her sister snapped. "You'd be completely on your own in this. Do you have any idea how much work children are?"
"Yes, Cecily," Gail said, reining in her temper. Cecily probably didn't mean that how it sounded. "I teach kindergarten. I know how much work children are."
Cecily made a noise halfway between a huff and a sigh. "That's different. You can give them back. Imagine kindergarten but ten times worse and all the time."
Spoken like a woman who had never tried to make a classroom full of kindergartners do as she told them. But that would probably not be an effective line of argument. "I won't argue your point," Gail said instead, as the first spatter of rain hit her window. "I know it'll be hard, and expensive, and that I'll effectively be a single mother, I know that."
"What are you arguing, then?"
Her hand drifted down to rest on her abdomen. "That Brad, whatever I feel, was a mistake," Gail said, quietly. "And that this baby, whatever the cost, is not."
Cecily was silent for another very long moment, and for a moment Gail was afraid of her reaction. But when she finally spoke, it was in a deeply affectionate tone. "Why do you even ask for my opinion when you've already made up your mind?"
"I never asked for your opinion, brat," Gail said, smiling a real smile this time. She let the curtain fall, drifted away from the window towards her desk. "It's because you know what I'm thinking better than I do." She hesitated, then asked, "Are you with me on this, Cess?"
Her sister barked a short laugh. "Idiot child. Of course I am. I'll hold your hand when you tell Brad and I'll even go with you to tell Mom and Dad."
"Very brave of you," Gail murmured, wincing at the thought of her parents' probable reaction. They'd never liked Brad, either of them, and convincing them that she wasn't insane was going to take some doing. They'd understand in the end, though, and they'd be there for her, just like Cecily. Thank God for that. "Dad's going to yell, you know."
"But not at me," Cecily said, sounding rather smug. "It's the Irish in him. He'll get over it."
The crack of thunder startled Gail, and she looked up to see rain lashing against her window. "Wow, that was fast."
"What was?"
She went back to the window and tugged the curtains closed. Bright flashes lit the edges, signs of lightning in the air. "A storm just blew up as I was talking to you. I mean, five minutes ago you barely knew it was coming."
"That's always how it goes, isn't it?" Cecily asked, rhetorically. "I'll let you go batten down the hatches, then. Let me know when you need sisterly support, and remember, Gail..." She paused, dramatically. "If you need an alibi, I am open to bribes."
Gail laughed, and promised to call, and hung up with a smile. That had gone rather better than she'd expected, but then most things with Cecily went better than expected.
Now. She had some things to get done; doctor's appointments to be made, various people to be informed, planning and budgeting. She could do this, now.
There was another bright flash at the corner of her eye, and she glanced back at the curtains, hanging still against the window. Sudden storms. At least she had an umbrella.
If Gail was not precisely whistling when she went to make a to-do list, she was at least smiling.
Main Story: In the Heart
Flavors, Toppings, Extras: Vanilla 12 (a storm), chocolate 22 (anticipation), strawberry 2 (curtains), rainbow sprinkles (Gail and Cecily), whipped cream (Ivy in utereo), malt (stocking stuffer: tell me so/tell me don't/tell me everything you know--airmail, tell me so).
Word Count: 1566
Rating: PG-13, for serious discussion of possibly disturbing subjects.
Summary: Gail has a very difficult decision to make. So she calls her sister.
Notes: Title from Vienna Teng's wonderful song Shasta. Also, it occured to me that my first story on here is technically rainbow sprinkles since Ivy's in a supporting role only... can I claim that retroactively? Finally, if you have concrit, I would love it as always.
Sweet Jesus, but she did not want to make this phone call.
Gail sat on her bed and rocked back and forth while she stared at the phone. Ironic, that the hardest call would not be to Brad, or to her parents, but to her little sister.
Or, no, maybe that wasn't ironic. Just pathetic.
She sighed sharply, and picked up the phone, dialling Cecily's number by heart. Better to just get it over with.
Her sister answered quickly, in the brisk, impersonal tone she used for all phone conversations. "Cecily Hirschfeld."
"It's me, Cess," Gail said, and forced a smile. "How are you, sweetie?"
Cecily's voice warmed immediately. "Doing good, doing good. What about you?"
Gail hesitated.
It must have been the uncharacteristic pause that tipped Cecily off. "Oh, God," she said. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing," Gail said, hastily, then amended that to, "Almost nothing. Um."
"Gail," Cecily said, half-snarling.
"I'm pregnant."
Judging from the stunned silence on the other end of the line, Cecily hadn't been expecting that.
Neither had Gail. She'd been so careful, dammit. She took her birth control every day at the same time, used condoms every time, even kept careful track of her body's rhythms and adjusted sex accordingly. But something, somewhere, had gone wrong.
"Oh my God," Cecily said, finally. "Is Brad the father?"
"Cecily!" Gail snapped. "Of course he is!"
Her sister sighed noisily into the phone. "Settle down, I wasn't implying you were cheating, It's just that I thought you were going to dump him three months ago." Her tone was... not disapproving, exactly, but it was getting there.
Gail shifted uncomfortably on the bed. "So did I." She left it at that, and Cecily, fortunately, didn't pry.
Instead, she said, "Okay. Okay. This isn't the end of the world, you know. How far along are you?"
"About six weeks," Gail said. "I had a sonogram yesterday. And I know it's not the end of the world."
Cecily didn't appear to have heard her. "You have options, you know."
"Yeah," Gail said, and swallowed an unexpected lump in her throat. "That's what I wanted to talk to you about, actually."
She could picture her sister nodding, solemn-faced. "I'll go with you," Cecily said. "If you don't want to tell him, if you just want to get it over with. I'll be right with you the whole time if that's what you want to do."
"It would probably be the best thing for everybody," Gail said, very quietly. She looked up at the darkening sky beyond her curtains; it was going to rain.
"Probably," Cecily agreed, her voice subdued. "I mean, this thing with Brad..."
She trailed off, but Gail knew where she was going; the same place Gail herself had gone so many times before, turning it over in her own mind ever since that appointment. "This thing with Brad," as Cecily so diplomatically put it, was going nowhere, because Brad was the least dependable, most infuriating boyfriend she'd ever had. She loved him, and dearly, but she'd always felt just a little bit superior, and she had the sneaking feeling that her love was on the wane, now.
Even if it wasn't, Brad would hardly be a reliable father. She didn't want to inflict that on a child, or on him.
She sniffled back an entirely unreasonable bout of tears.
"It makes sense," she said. "It's what I should do, isn't it?" She could hear the pleading tone in her own voice, and winced.
Cecily was silent for a long moment, then said, "Gail, if you're asking me that, you already know you're not going to."
Gail exhaled, stood, and went to the window, brushing the curtains aside and leaning her forehead against the cool glass. In the distance, lightning flickered from cloud to cloud. "It has a heartbeat, Cess. They showed me, on the monitor."
"You don't have to," Cecily said, gently.
Apparently that was what she'd wanted to hear. Gail exhaled again and stood a little straighter, the curtains brushing against her back as she did. "Then I won't."
After a quiet moment of sympathetic silence, Cecily suggested, "You could put it up for adoption, if you wanted. Have to tell Brad if you go that route, though."
"Mom and Dad, too," Gail said, and shuddered. "Lord, the tongue-lashing I'll get."
"For getting pregnant out of wedlock or picking Brad to do it with?" Cecily asked, dryly.
Gail snorted. "I didn't pick him, it was an accident. I'd've picked Douglas or Paul if I was going to pick someone."
Cecily laughed, a little nervously."Please. Douglas was in college, and Paul is gay. And you didn't love either one of them."
"Liked them a whole hell of a lot more," Gail said. "Cess, I don't want to give it up, either."
She hadn't thought about what she was saying, and didn't entirely realize what she had said until a second stunned silence settled in at the other end of the line. But the more she thought about it, the truer it was. So what if it wasn't the best timing? She had a good, steady job, and plenty of money in the bank. She had a supportive family-- or would have, once her parents got over being angry and Cecily stopped boggling. Even Brad might shape up, when faced with fatherhood.
She wouldn't hold her breath for that. Still.
"Is that really a good idea?" Cecily asked, at last.
"I don't know," Gail said. "That's why I'm asking you. But it feels like a good idea."
"So did dating Brad," Cecily retorted.
Gail snorted again. "Touché." She drew the edge of the curtain up between her fingers and began to fiddle with it. In the distance, thunder rumbled. "You think it's a bad one."
"Of course I think it's a bad idea," her sister snapped. "You'd be completely on your own in this. Do you have any idea how much work children are?"
"Yes, Cecily," Gail said, reining in her temper. Cecily probably didn't mean that how it sounded. "I teach kindergarten. I know how much work children are."
Cecily made a noise halfway between a huff and a sigh. "That's different. You can give them back. Imagine kindergarten but ten times worse and all the time."
Spoken like a woman who had never tried to make a classroom full of kindergartners do as she told them. But that would probably not be an effective line of argument. "I won't argue your point," Gail said instead, as the first spatter of rain hit her window. "I know it'll be hard, and expensive, and that I'll effectively be a single mother, I know that."
"What are you arguing, then?"
Her hand drifted down to rest on her abdomen. "That Brad, whatever I feel, was a mistake," Gail said, quietly. "And that this baby, whatever the cost, is not."
Cecily was silent for another very long moment, and for a moment Gail was afraid of her reaction. But when she finally spoke, it was in a deeply affectionate tone. "Why do you even ask for my opinion when you've already made up your mind?"
"I never asked for your opinion, brat," Gail said, smiling a real smile this time. She let the curtain fall, drifted away from the window towards her desk. "It's because you know what I'm thinking better than I do." She hesitated, then asked, "Are you with me on this, Cess?"
Her sister barked a short laugh. "Idiot child. Of course I am. I'll hold your hand when you tell Brad and I'll even go with you to tell Mom and Dad."
"Very brave of you," Gail murmured, wincing at the thought of her parents' probable reaction. They'd never liked Brad, either of them, and convincing them that she wasn't insane was going to take some doing. They'd understand in the end, though, and they'd be there for her, just like Cecily. Thank God for that. "Dad's going to yell, you know."
"But not at me," Cecily said, sounding rather smug. "It's the Irish in him. He'll get over it."
The crack of thunder startled Gail, and she looked up to see rain lashing against her window. "Wow, that was fast."
"What was?"
She went back to the window and tugged the curtains closed. Bright flashes lit the edges, signs of lightning in the air. "A storm just blew up as I was talking to you. I mean, five minutes ago you barely knew it was coming."
"That's always how it goes, isn't it?" Cecily asked, rhetorically. "I'll let you go batten down the hatches, then. Let me know when you need sisterly support, and remember, Gail..." She paused, dramatically. "If you need an alibi, I am open to bribes."
Gail laughed, and promised to call, and hung up with a smile. That had gone rather better than she'd expected, but then most things with Cecily went better than expected.
Now. She had some things to get done; doctor's appointments to be made, various people to be informed, planning and budgeting. She could do this, now.
There was another bright flash at the corner of her eye, and she glanced back at the curtains, hanging still against the window. Sudden storms. At least she had an umbrella.
If Gail was not precisely whistling when she went to make a to-do list, she was at least smiling.