Work Text:
That Lady
Anna didn’t want to look. Didn’t want to see the child that wasn’t hers, held by the man she wasn’t allowed to feel things for. Everything hurt. She wanted to pretend there was only the pain of childbirth, only the pain of Lamp tearing their way out of her. Nothing else. Not the heartbreak. Not the agony of feeling the umbilical cord still inside, knowing it was the last and only connection to Lamp. To Matt.
Maybe it was the hormones. Maybe she didn’t love Matt, didn’t love the child she had spent so long growing. She had tried so hard to remain distant, unattached. But humans just weren’t wired to resist forming bonds. She had gotten too close.
Anna listened to Matt’s awe-struck cooing. Listened to him marvel at Lamp as he held them close to his chest. No one would question a thing if she cried. So she did. She let go.
She took full advantage of her maternity leave. She stayed home. Stayed in her bed. She wept, cradling her now-empty belly, and watched it slowly deflate over the weeks. She could almost make herself believe it was only post-partum depression. Normal, biological side-effects.
Her breasts ached. She needed to pump, whether or not her milk went to any use. Matt had bought her an expensive machine for the task. Anna texted Jules to come over and pick up the milk for Lamp. She pumped while she waited, and handed the bottles through the door quickly, nestled in a cooler. Usual demeanor aside, Jules cared for her, and knew she needed time and space. The daily milk run was more than worth it to see her doing okay.
Anna crawled back into bed. Her belly was almost back to its normal shape. Her maternity leave was almost up. Curled tight into a ball, she looked back on the nine months she had spent carrying Matt’s baby. The walls she had built around her, had depended on, were rubble at her feet now. She was done pretending. She was never very good at it anyway.
In truth, Anna wanted nothing more than to stay in Matt’s life. But that hurt too much. It hurt too much to be reminded she couldn’t raise Lamp alongside him.
Soon, Vermont was a week away. Jules helped her pack, and spent much of the time gabbing about nothing to take her mind off things. When the last box was packed and sealed, ready for the U-Haul, Jules took Anna aside.
“Listen real quick. Are you listening?”
“Yeah?”
“I know this college thing is a big deal and you should absolutely go do it…”
“But?”
“But I can’t stand by when you’re sad like this. You got less than two days, Anna, and I’d hate for you to leave things unresolved and end up running back in some dramatic rom-com cliché.”
“Jules, what are you going on about?”
“I’m talking about you avoiding your shit. I’m talking about you not even taking a minute to sort out what you’re really feeling. It could be nothing, or it could be something, but if you don’t talk it out, you’ll waste your college money and run back. I’ve seen this movie; I know.”
“This isn’t a movie. This is real life. And in real life, you don’t get to resolve everything. You get on with your life and try to forget.”
“Let me ask you this once. Do you want to be with that guy? I’m not asking if it’s a good idea, or if you should do anything about it. Do you like him?”
Anna turned and settled into a canvass folding chair. “I don’t know. Maybe. Probably.”
Jules raised an eyebrow. “Which is it?”
Anna sighed. “Yeah. I like him.”
“There. Now it’s said, and now you can deal with it. Did you book the truck already?”
“Yeah, I just need to pick it up in the morning.”
The trip to Vermont felt easier now. Anna drove for six days across the country. She adjusted to school life fairly easily, and for the first few months, life was bittersweet. She poured all her focus into her courses, trying to distract herself. She studied twice as much as she needed.
But at nights, in the short hours between closing her textbooks and falling asleep, she would remember watching Matt as he would delicately touch her belly, his eyes lighting up as he felt Lamp’s kicking. She could see him clearly in her head, radiating with joy. His stormy-blue eyes would go wide, and he would grin down at Lamp with an expression of love and wonder.
If things were different, if they had met under different circumstances, Anna might have been allowed to give in fully. She stared at the ceiling, damp eyes leaking past her temples and into the pillow. Old conversations flowed through her head. The way he seemed so hurt when she brushed off assumptions people made. She was afraid of what that meant. Or didn’t mean.
Eventually, she returned to her room with a stack of mail one day. She flipped through the envelopes, settling on her bed, and froze when a familiar name appeared in the top-right corner. His name.
Anna set the rest of the mail aside and tore open the side of the envelope. She hesitated. Whatever was written couldn’t be unread. She breathed deeply, steadying herself. Nervously, she pulled the letter from the envelope. The paper was thick stationary, meant for fountain pens. She smiled. It was so like him. She unfolded the letter, turned it right-side-up, and read it.
Anna—
I wasn’t sure if it was okay to write you, but I thought it would only be fair to let you know the big stuff. Just in case you wanted to keep in touch, or just know, or whatever. I know you’ve got that thing about boundaries, though.
Anyway, Lamp’s first birthday is coming up. (Still calling the baby Lamp here, just in case you didn’t want any details.) My number’s still the same, so feel free to call or text. Or don’t. I wanted you to know you’re not unwelcome here. It’s still your call, of course.
Love, Matt
Anna smirked. Typical Matt, tripping over himself. She looked at the signature at the bottom. “Love” was scratched out, but still visible. She winced. Don’t give me false hope.
His number was still in her contacts. She stared at her phone. Sighing, she typed out things she wanted to say, things she couldn’t say. Just need to get this out of my system. Just say it and then delete it.
I got too attached. Delete.
I still think about you. Delete.
I hate how cute you are. Delete.
She bit her lip. Her thumbs hovered, a childish indulgence behind her eyes.
I love you.
She fell back onto her bed, feeling stupid and giddy. “Jesus, I’m way too old for this shit. What am I, in middle school?”
She chuckled softly, then raised her phone to her line of sight. Her face fell. Her skin went pale. “Fuck.”
Her thumb had slipped. The text sent. Her stomach sank.
The animated ellipsis on the left side of the screen appeared, disappeared, and reappeared.
I love you too.