Chapter Text
In the quiet night – the silence is deafening. Everything is loud and too bright, and it is too hot and too cold, and there are moving shadows everywhere and the water laps, laps, laps against the lip of the pool and –
Nothing makes sense. Nothing makes sense except Jen and he keeps on floating and floating as his blood ebbs away from him. Despite the noise in her head Judy knows one thing for certain: she’ll do whatever Jen needs her to do, whatever that may entitle.
***
It seems unreal that six moths later she is still not in prison and that Jen occasionally asks for her help with the boys. Jen is throwing herself into work to numb herself, and Judy is ever attentive in case Jen needs her whenever she eventually falls apart. Charlie abhors her and Judy knows she deserves it, but it never stops hurting when he looks at her the way he does; when he says the things he does. It hurts more when all Henry ever does is shower her with love. She would prefer both of them hating her. She would prefer Jen hating her and treating her the same way Charlie does instead of having her linger around like a lost soul. She thinks it must be the other woman’s idea of hell for her and she accepts it, even if it hurts so much.
Things are tense with Jen. Beyond tense. They don’t interact at all except when the boys are around and even then, it is only for Henry’s benefit. Jen never calls her; she just texts her. She never makes eyes contact, and when she is not glaring at her, she makes eyes contact for less than a second. It is enough to communicate her disdain for her.
They haven’t spoken about anything that went down and it is killing Judy because she knows they can’t leave things unspoken – even if Jen banishes her for good, they need to talk through the plethora of issues plaguing their decayed relationship.
***
Another month goes by and Jen asks her to stay for dinner for the first time since that night.
The following three weeks follow the same routine until officially once per week Judy helps with and stays for dinner. From then on, they interact a bit more; Jen holds her gaze for longer than a few seconds, engages in conversation with her at dinner and makes small talk while cleaning up.
It is on one of those nights that Jen asks her to stay and watch a movie with them. Long after the boys have retired for the night, and the house is quite except for the T.V., Jen offers her more wine and lowers down the volume.
“You are only here because of Henry.” She starts, “Because you made us- made him love you and he can’t lose someone else in the span of a year. I won’t let you fuck up my kids. They can’t know about you Judy. I need you to promise me that you won’t keep anything from me; a hundred percent honesty from now on. I just – why did you listen to him? Why didn’t you-“ Jen sighs and shakes her head. “Forget that. I know you would have done the right thing if Steve hadn’t had such hold over you – I know that. That is all I need to know and the real reason why I’m allowing you anywhere near us. But it doesn’t change anything Judy, and it doesn’t make it hurt any less.”
Jen stops, takes a deep breath, and turns to look at her. “Why are you the way you are? Why couldn’t you just leave it alone, leave us alone, and not get involved?” She shakes her head again and rolls her eyes before taking a sip. “I swear you make the most fucked up decisions. Why did you have to make it better Judy? Why?”
Judy feels her eyes well up and her throat constrict painfully with every question Jen throws her way, and she waits until she has control over her breathing before addressing Jen.
“I am so sorry Jen. I should have done the right thing from the beginning. And I definitely should not have entered your life nor met your family, I know – I’m sorry – but I just… I couldn’t pretend nothing had happened like Steve. I couldn’t stop thinking about how I ruined a family, how I was responsible for a parent’s death, for a wife’s grief, for two children’s grief, and I thought I had to make it better somehow. Steve did always say chaos follow me everywhere. I just… I thought that if I could help you heal then – I don’t know, I just didn’t want to pretend nothing had happened and not do anything about it.
Then, when I met you and the boys there were so many times I almost told you but as time went on it became harder and harder to do, and the more I fell in love with you three… I could never bring myself to do it. Every time I went to bed I promised myself I would come clean and every morning I woke up I would say to myself, ‘Today is the day.’ And then I would see you, any of you, and that resolve would slowly ebb away because you were giving me something I never had; a family. Something Steve and I could never achieve. Something I could never give him. And having lost her so recently when we were finally so close… I wasn’t in a good headspace. I’m not saying that justifies anything I did- my miscarriages are not a justification, I know – but being with you guys, even knowing how fucked up it was, it made me feel whole in a way I had never felt before. And that made me feel sick to my stomach – knowing how fucked up it was for me to be doing what I was doing; to you and to the boys. I thought my self-hatred was worth it, how awful I felt. It was worth it if I got you to smile and the boys to laugh even if it was for a second. One second where you were not grieving.
I got caught up in all the mess and believe me, I wanted to tell you for so long but I could not bring myself to do it and that night you were blaming yourself for Ted’s death… I couldn’t let you do that knowing that I was responsible. I couldn’t let you keep thinking it was your fault when none of this has been your fault. You are an amazing mom, and an amazing wife and you don’t deserve the things that have happened to you nor the shitstorm that is me. You deserve the world Jen. And I am sorry. I truly am. Please believe that.”
Silence envelops the room for several minutes. Judy clasps and unclasps her hands and plays with her rings as Jen periodically drags her fingertip over the rim of the glass as Judy waits with bated breath for any kind of reaction from the woman.
“You made me care for you.” Jen says quietly. “You made me need you. You know how fucked up that is? I don’t care for people Judy, you know this. I don’t need people. I don’t need to need people. I only care about my family and that is it. The rest of the world can fuck off for all I care. But you, somehow, against all odds, against my nature – you got me to care for you so fast, so unlike anyone before... Of course, it had to be too good to be true. You had to be too good to be true. And you hurt me – you really hurt me so fucking bad Judy – and I’m done with being hurt. I’m done being used and betrayed. I can’t have that in my life anymore. I’m done. I really need you to be honest; to be here because you want to be here – not because you feel guilty – but because you want to be here with us. I need you to promise me that you won’t hurt me – hurt us anymore, and that you are not here out of guilt or some sort of penance.”
Judy takes a breath and sets her wine glass down on the coffee table, collecting her thoughts and evening out her breathing. She turns her body towards Jen to face her, and Judy wants nothing more to hold her hands in her own as she makes her promise, but she refrains.
“There is nowhere else in this planet I rather be, in this life or in the next. I promise you that I am not here out of guilt, Jen. I’ll be here for you and the boys for as long as you’ll have me; for as long as you want in whichever way or form you think best. Anything you need from me, I’ll give. Anything. I mean it when I say I love you. I truly mean it Jen; you and the boys with all my heart.”
***
Every time Judy looks at the boys she can’t help thinking:
I killed their dad. I killed their dad and now Jen knows, and I have burdened her with that knowledge.
Every time Henry smiles at her, every time he hugs her, she feels like dying because she doesn’t deserve any of his affections. She doesn’t deserve them. She wishes he would be more like Charlie was a few months back. She wishes Charlie had remained angry and hostile. She wishes she could tell the truth and still have them in her life. She wishes Jen-
She wishes things were different.
***
When Jen asks her to move-in, Judy thinks she has finally had a stroke, either her or Jen but someone must have definitely had a stroke. She hates this state of constant cognitive dissonance she finds herself in. Her emotions are a convoluted mess and she feels about to implode at any given moment of the day. She feels elated at the prospect of living with her family again, but she knows she shouldn’t. She feels horrendous for all the pain she’s caused them, and the anxiety and tension she feels can sometimes be crippling. She deals with it through spiritual guidance and fully giving herself to the boys and Jen to try to somehow make amends, but she knows she can never amend what she did.
Nevertheless, she moves in – contradictory feelings still afloat but her desire to be around them, her chosen family, wins out if only by a little.
She wishes things were different.
***
Against all odds, moving in actually improves her relationship with Jen. Jen stops keeping four feet between them, makes prolonged eye contact and things start to feel like they used to be. She helps Jen out with the boys whenever the other woman is unable to; goes to parent-teacher meetings when Jen can’t - and also because Jen hates all the kid’s teachers and the small talk they insist on making. She happily does the grocery shopping, often surprising Jen with a fully stocked fridge because the other woman has been working herself to the ground and barely has any time to breathe. Little by little Judy is succeeding with introducing vegetarian dishes to Charlie that the boy enjoys despite pretending not to, which she finds adorable because he makes the same face Jen makes when she is proven wrong. Henry is another story altogether- he is always delighted to try new things. She bonds greatly with him in the kitchen, when they are preparing dinner together while Charlie is upstairs locked in his room in all his teenage angst and while Jen is away at work.
She still doesn’t drive and her finances do take a bit of a toll when she is forced to take a cab or uber but on the upside, the retirement home did finally give her that raise and more, and she has managed to have her art displayed at other galleries, which when it sells contributes positively to her finances and she is able to contribute even more to the household.
***
When Henry introduces her as Jen’s girlfriend the day of his recital, Judy feels her heart stop, her breath hastily leaves her lungs, and there is a mixture of deathly silence and cacophonous noise in her head and she can’t formulate a single word to refute the statement.
She is not worthy of Jen in any way, let alone that way.
She is not.
I killed her husband.
I killed your dad Henry.
It was me.
***
Two years and a half pass and things are as great as they can be; greater than she could ever hope they could be. Her feelings for Jen seem to grow exponentially with each day that goes by despite Judy thinking she could not love her more than she already does. Her guilt is still ever-present, but Jen has been a huge help in coming to terms with it and letting herself feel a part of their odd family.
She is happy, she loves the boys and they love her, and Jen… well, Jen is still Jen which on Judy’s book is still great. The four of them have a great routine and roles and things flow easily and, for the most part, without complications or drama.
In the mornings, she preps for lunch or dinner, gets the boys ready for school and makes breakfast while Jen goes out on a run or attends her dance class. When the woman comes back, Judy has timed it perfectly so that Jen can take a shower, get ready for the day and have breakfast with her and the boys. Together. As a family.
Judy loves the mornings.
She loves her family.
After work, sometimes she goes grocery shopping or shops for whatever the boys need for their school projects. Sometimes, she heads to Jen’s work with a caffeine booster for the blonde, checks the listings (which most of the times means they end up joking around about the owners and potential buyers) and then they head home together. Jen checks up on the kids, makes sure they are working on their homework and then lends a hand to Judy in making dinner or simply sits and chats with her from the counter while sipping on a glass of wine. They have dinner as a family and then watch a movie or tv show in the living room or play boardgames which almost always ends with the boys fighting with each other, but which is nonetheless enjoyable. Jen even bets sometimes on which of her kids will be the one leaving the table in a huff. It’s almost always Henry because Charlie manages to be exasperating in a way only teenagers can be to their younger siblings.
Sometimes it’s just Jen and her after the kids head of to bed, lounging and chatting while enjoying a few or many glasses of wine depending on how the day went.
Things are good. Really good.
Judy loves it with everything she’s got.
***
But…
She hates there’s a but.
Things with Jen are great. They truly are, but sometimes they are too great, so much so that Judy thinks she must be imagining it. She thinks she catches lingering glances from Jen, and sometimes when she kisses the woman’s cheek in greeting, she thinks she sees her blush. Sometimes Jen stutters when Judy pays her a compliment or makes a flirty comment, but Judy can’t be sure for certain Jen might be attracted to her because Jen recovers fantastically fast, so fast that Judy is sure she must have imagined it. She flirts with Jen on a nearly constant basis and Jen seems to flirt back a little bit, and when Jen seems to give as good as she gets Judy pulls back because she knows she doesn’t deserve Jen and she shouldn’t get to have her that way. She should not get to want her that way.
Nevertheless, it seems pointless to dwell on those thoughts because Jen seems clueless and unaware that Judy is actually flirting and not teasing; that while Judy is very touchy without actual conscious thought, a hand on another’s woman thigh (Jen’s hand, not hers) more than above the knee - a little bit further than midthigh - for the better part of a night is not really friend behaviour. She chalks it up to Jen’s awkwardness when it comes to any type of relationships and her lack of experience of true friends that are not a snappy, sassy gay man.
Judy doesn’t really notice when her hand lands somewhere on Jen or caresses her and plays with her fingers. Her body takes over and she often finds herself surprised because she knows Jen is not very physical and frankly, her wandering hands or eyes have not asked for Jen’s permission so she keeps her hands to herself as much as is within her power. Turns out she has minimal control over her own body. At first, when they were in the first stages of mending their relationship, she kept her distance, redirected her gestures to herself; an extended hand reaching out for Jen would end up buried in Judy’s hair or twisting her other hand’s fingers, or she would fiddle with her bracelets and rings.
Once things truly got better, they seemingly shortened the distance on their own, moving within one another’s spheres gracefully and effortlessly. However, once Judy noticed just how deeply her feelings for Jen ran (not that she was ever unaware she had somehow fallen in love with her), she tried to rein in her touchy nature and attain a semblance of personal space. Rather pointless as no matter how hard she tries, they are always drawn to each other.
***
The first time she greets Jen with a kiss on the cheek, she thinks the other woman will either pass out or beat the living hell out of her. Judy is on the phone when Jen comes home from work. Unable to give Jen her undivided attention, she gestures “hold on,” towards Jen and still on the phone, approaches the woman, whispers a quick “hi,” plants a kiss on her cheek and carries on with her conversation. When she feels watched, she turns to find a stock-still, wide-eyed Jen, purse hanging limply from her hand, looking at her with the most undecipherable expression she has ever seen from the woman.
Crap, Judy thinks, hurriedly hanging up and turning to face Jen completely. Before she can open her mouth to apologize, Jen comes out of her stupor.
“Uh, h-hello.” Jen clears her throat, blushes, and starts backing out of the kitchen. “Uh, yeah, hello. I’m just, I’m just gonna drop this off upstairs.”
And then she’s gone, heels clacking away.
It’s one of Judy’s favorite moments.
From then on, she makes a promise to herself to sporadically greet Jen with kiss on the cheek.
***
On her 49th birthday Judy dies.
She is having dinner with Jen, the boys and Chris and she is overjoyed with the presents and the people around her. The last present is the size of an envelope, given to her by Henry as an after thought, wrapped simply and beautifully. She rips the wrapping paper carefully and insides she finds an unassuming envelope.
She is not counting on its contents.
She looks around the table and sees everyone holding their breath before she removes the piece of paper from the envelope.
If there was ever a precious piece of paper in the world, Judy holds it in her hands. It is the most precious piece of paper in the world.
On her 49th birthday, Judy officially becomes a mother. Adoptive mother of Charlie and Henry Harding, spouse of Jennifer Harding.
She cries likes she has never cried before, and she laughs and she sobs and she asks her family if it is real and no matter how many times they reassure her that it is, she still cannot believe it.
She is a mom.
She is a mom!
Everyday for the next two months she cradles the document carefully and stares at it for minutes, and everyday Jen kisses her cheek, taking it out of her hands gently and telling her, “you are gonna rub the ink off, my love.”