Work Text:
March 17, 1235pm
Burger Boxer, Home of the Boxer Burger, now with new and improved KO Sauce!
Also a really shitty place to work.
Ava drove a fist into her back as she loaded the tray with the order. The lunch rush was godawful at the best of times, but she was tired, her period had finally decided to show its face after months, and she’d been cramping all day. Then there was the past few months of bloating and bouts of upset stomach at all hours, and even those had gotten worse lately to the point of waking her up in the middle of the night.
It was probably the spicy carrot chips. Not normally her thing, but fuck, she couldn’t get enough of them these days, especially after her messy breakup with Terry nearly a year ago. Worse still was that she hadn’t been able to find a new job or even get a goddamn transfer to a different branch since this was a fucking franchise and the owner liked her work ethic too much. Which meant she still had to see that greasy haired bitch faced two timing cheating ass and his stupid lip to chin goatee five times a week.
Dear God, if only she had called in sick today. If only she could have called in sick. But her already meager paycheck was stretched to the limit as it was and she couldn’t afford to lose anymore money. Not for the first time, she thought about calling Jillian, apologizing, of . . . no. No, damnit! She didn’t need her godmother, she didn’t need her money, and she sure didn’t need her warm hugs and . . . no, out of the question. Absolutely out of the question. Ava was right, Jillian was wrong, that’s all there was to it.
Another preliminary cramp ripped through her, centered on her abdomen, and she fought to keep a smile on her face as she brought the tray to the counter and wished the customer a nice day. Come on, she thought at the painkillers she’d taken at her last break, work, will you?
Five hours left. She could do that, right? Five hours and then she would be off and Beatrice would come over and they could snuggle and cuddle. Maybe do some kissing. More kissing. They were both going slow, she because of the breakup, Bea because Ava was like her second girl ever and the first serious one, and Ava was determined to do this right.
Yeah, she could get through this, no biggie. Five more hours and then girlfriend (as of two weeks ago) time.
She rested her bloated stomach on the counter edge, careful to keep it behind the register and smiled for the next customer . . . oh thank God, a friendly face.
“Hey, Mary,” she said, offering a genuine smile for the first time since she’d clocked in, “come to see the hellhole, huh?” She clenched her teeth to swallow another groan as another cramp hit her.
“Heya, Pipsqueak,” Mary said, but her eyes had dropped to Ava’s belly and then back up to her face. “You feeling okay?”
“Yeah, just my period is back, preliminary cramps is all. I’m good.”
“Dunno about that,” Mary said, her dark eyes intense as she raked Ava up and down with her gaze. Mary was an obstetrics nurse at the hospital and she was probably thinking that Ava was pregnant. Hell, she was probably trained to see pregnancy everywhere. “When was the last time you saw the doctor?”
“A year ago,” Ava said curtly, “look, Mary, I’m fine and kinda on the clock here, order wouldja?”
Mary gave her a look but ordered two of the fish sandwich combos. Ava filled the order and watched as Mary took it back to the table where a pretty redhead waited. Shannon was the only one in their circle of friends who knew the whole ass truth, and Ava suspected she was here as much for a lunch date with Mary as to spy on Ava for Jillian.
Well suck it, Shannon, she wasn’t going back.
“Next please!” she called, and swallowed another groan.
————————
When the rush was over, the lobby emptied fast and Ava bit back a snarl as Mary came over, Shannon a few steps behind. The cramps were getting worse and occurring more frequently and she was never so glad that she’d put in a pad as she was right now. Aunt Flo’s visit was going to be epic.
“Ava, I really think you oughta clock out,” Mary said, “call me paranoid, but I don’t think this is cramps.”
“Stuff it, Mary,” Ava snapped, angrier and perhaps louder than she intended, “I’m not pregnant!” She swung an angry finger to point at Shannon, “And you! When you tattle to the good Doctor, you can tell her to take her self-righteousness and judgey judgeness and shove it up her ass. In fact, you know what? Both of you can get the fuck out of—“ she paused as her legs and thighs were suddenly soaked. She turned to yell at Vince for spilling another drink on her like the clumsy idiot he was and . . . Vince was over by the fryer.
“Holy Shit, Silva, did you just piss yourself?” someone called out.
“That ain’t piss!” Mary called back, “her water just broke!”
“What?”
“No!” Ava exclaimed, “I’m not pregnant! I would know if I was pregnant! Mary, I’m not pregnant!”
“Yeah?” Mary pointed downward, “that’s a broken water if I’ve ever seen it and when was the last time you had your period?”
“Months ago, sure, but . . .”
“How many months?” Mary leaned over the counter. “How many months, Ava?”
Ava mentally counted back. It was March, and she remembered having hers right before finding out Terry cheated last June, then the breakup fight, and then the breakup . . .
Oh hell.
“I’m fucking pregnant?!” She spun around. “Terry you scrabble faced flat assed chicken legged walnut humper, you knocked me up!"
Terry stared at her like a cow standing on the tracks in the path of an oncoming train. “Why would you think it was me?”
“Because we had sex nine months ago, dumbaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhh!” Ava doubled over, one hand pressed to her middle and for the first time, it registered that her bloated stomach was in fact round and firm, that the bouts of upset stomach were because there was something in her, that her cheap ass bra wasn’t fitting right because her tits were bigger, not because it was cheap.
“Oh my God, I’m having a baby!” Ava panted, barely conscious of Mary coming around the counter.
“Mary, the Ambulance is on its way and I’m going to go get Beatrice. I’ll meet you at the hospital,” Shannon said. She waved her phone and then left.
“I’m having a baby!” Ava sobbed, “I haven’t done the vitamins, the lamaze, isn’t it the law you have to go to lamaze? Mary, am I going to jail because I haven’t done lamaze?”
“Don’t worry, Pipsqueak,” Mary told her gently as she led her back around the counter and into the lobby, “just tell the judge you’re a fucking idiot and you’ll be off the hook.”
“Okay, good, good, I can’t have a baby in jail, there’s no library. You have to read to the baby, right? Oh God! I never even played classical music!” She grabbed Mary’s shirt, eyes wild. “Mary, the baby has never heard classical music! You’re supposed to play them classical music!”
Outside, lights flashed as the ambulance pulled up.
—————————————
“No, Beatrice.”
Shannon was a very good driver under most circumstances. However, driving at speed with one hand was always tricky, especially since her other hand was flung across Beatrice’s chest to keep her in the car, as without restraint, Beatrice would likely get out and attempt to parkour her way through traffic to get to the hospital.
“Beatrice, it’s fine, Ava is fine,” Shannon said, keeping Beatrice in her seat with considerable effort, “we’ll be there soon and Mary is with her.” Shannon hadn’t told her why Ava was in the hospital, reasoning that Beatrice’s reaction would be more extreme than if she didn’t know.
“But not soon enough. I need to be there, she needs me. She - Shannon, let me out.”
“You are not parkouring through traffic Beatrice,” Shannon said firmly, even if Beatrice was probably one of the few people who actually had a strong chance of doing so successfully. “We’re moving about as fast as you can run anyway and I don’t think Ava would appreciate it if you showed up to support her with broken bones, yours or anyone else’s. And anyway, you’re wearing a skirt and dress flats.”
“She needs me,” Beatrice said again.
“And we’ll be there soon,” Shannon repeated, never more thankful than she was right now that her car had child safety locks.
Silence.
Nervous breathing.
Fidgeting.
A considering look at the sun roof.
“No, Beatrice.”
———————————————
The Paramedics had given her a very light painkiller, and while it reminded her a little too much of the club, but she reminded herself that Mary was here, Mary wouldn’t let them give her anything that hurt her.
So just relaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!
“Breathe!” Mary barked, and Ava found herself squeezing the other woman’s hand, copying her as they went through the exercise, riding out the - the contraction. Oh God! She was having a baby!
Mary snapped her fingers in front of Ava’s eyes. “Okay, Pipsqueak, dish time. Terry, what the fuck. That twig looks like he’d topple over in a strong wind. Why?”
“He can hold his breath for two minutes, doesn’t mind going down, his sex playlist is all techno and he can keep to the beat,” Ava said, “and he has that whole aloof bad boy shit going on.”
“Fair,” agreed the paramedic riding in the back with them. His name tag read “Marc”. “Gotta ask, ain’t judging, just need to know; you take anything recently, like stuff you ain’t supposed to?”
“Cheap ass generic painkillers? I thought this was my fucking period coming back.”
“After nine months?” Mary asked, unbelieving.
Ava groaned as a small contraction hit her. “My capacity for ignoring the obvious knows no bounds or else Terry and I would have broken up months ago.”
“. . . Point.”
“So what about alcohol, tobacco, things like that?” Marc asked.
“Went stone cold sober after the breakup. Aside from work, I camped my ass on the couch for the first six months and watched kdramas on Netflix while eating chips and an entire Halloween bag of Reese’s Peanut Butter cups.” She rubbed her stomach. “I thought I was just bloated and getting fat.”
“What about the baby moving?” Mary asked.
“Upset stomach.”
“The morning sickness?”
“I was getting over a breakup.”
“Kinda legit,” Marc said. Mary gave him a look. “My sister went through a really, really bad breakup back in high school, came down with a stress induced flu. Migraines, throwing up, whole nine yards.”
“I thought the water breaking means the baby is coming super quick,” Ava said.
“Nah, that’s TV,” Mary said. “Real life, your water breaking means the party is just getting started. You still got a few hours to go at least, so rest up. From here, shit gets real.”
“Oh God.”
“Thirty seconds!” The driver called.
“All right, Pipsqueak, here we go,” Mary said.
Ava groaned as another contraction hit.
——————————
“Ava Silva, sixth floor, room nine, Obstetrics.”
Ava’s name, floor and room number were all that registered before Beatrice was off like a shot towards the elevator, hitting the call button, and when the doors didn’t open immediately, pivoted, making straight for the stairs and running up, vaulting over the turns, eyes on the floor numbers. Four, five, six!
She shoved through the door, the briefest of glances at the room numbers and then she was off again, head down, shoulders forward, moving like the rugby player she’d been in her youth. Twelve, eleven, ten, nine!
She threw open the door, only barely registering the white coat near the bed, whom she checked aside, her eyes on Ava. “Bea!” Ava exclaimed, holding her arms open and Beatrice immediately bent down to embrace her, burying her face in the crook of her neck, “Bea, you’re here, you’re - shit.” Her arms tightened around Beatrice’s neck. “Fuck! Fuck! FUCK!” She began to breathe in short gasps, blowing air out from pursed lips, like she was doing breathing exercises, her arms tight around her, as though holding on for dear life. Beatrice held her just as tight, waiting until the episode passed.
“Shannon came and got me,” Beatrice said, “but it’ll be fine, we’re at the hospital and the doctors here in . . . ” She raised her head to look at Ava, then straightened up, taking in the brightly colored walls and the cartoon animals that decorated them, Doctor Jillian Salvius in a fine suit, watching her with an amused smile, Ava’s rounded middle, not pronounced, but still noticeable under the hospital gown and thin bed sheet. “. . . Obstetrics?”
Wait, go back.
Doctor Jillian Salvius, one of the greatest scientific minds in the world today, a major force in business, and most importantly, Beatrice’s employer, whom she had just shoulder checked out of the way to get to Ava and she was suddenly very conscious of her employee ID on its lanyard around her neck.
“I must say, I haven’t been checked like that since I played football,” Doctor Salvius said, “brought back quite a few memories.” She held out her hand. “Jillian Salvius.”
“Ah, yes, Rugby, Beatrice Powell,” Beatrice said, seeing her life and resume pass before her eyes, “Uh, I’m deeply sorry.”
“No, no, you were clearly thinking only of Ava and her reaction to you tells me a great deal.” The amused smile remained, but her eyes turned cold. “Should that reaction change, however —“
“Jillian, quit . . . fuck . . . Jillian . . . I . . . hnnnng!”
“Shhh,” Jillian said softly, bending over and kissing Ava on the forehead. “There’ll be time enough for that later. You’re doing something far more important right now.”
————————————
Perhaps half an hour later, the door opened and Camila, Ava’s roommate, entered. “Hello, Roomie!” she said cheerfully as she approached the bed. “Hello, future roomie!” she added, rubbing Ava’s stomach. “Why didn’t you tell me you were pregnant?” Camila demanded of Ava, “do you know how much fun we could have had shopping for baby clothes?”
“Because I didn’t fucking know?” Ava asked as though it was obvious, “I thought this was all post breakup shit.”
“Fair. So have you picked a name?”
“A name? Camila, I don’t even know if I’m keeping it!”
“Ooh, yeah, good point.”
“I suppose that is the only question that matters,” Jillian said.
“Uh, yeah, who the hell are you?” Camila asked.
“Camila, my Godmother, Jillian.”
“Godmother? When did we go back to not hating her?”
“I don’t fucking know!” Ava exclaimed, sinking her head back into her pillow, “an hour ago, the only thing I had to worry about was getting through my shift, going home, and then there would be Bea cuddles. Now I’m squeezing out a human because I’m a stupid fucking oblivious bitch! Fuck! I could have gone on a goddamn bender and fucked the kid up and they didn’t ask for that.” Tears were pouring from her eyes. “Kids don’t ask for that.” Her voice was quiet. “I could have killed my baby, Cam. They’d be dead and it would be my fault and I’m so fucking dense I probably wouldn’t even have known.”
Beatrice wasn’t sure what to do other than squeeze Ava’s hand.
“Okay, wow, surprise Ava lore, cool, cool.” Camila was squeezing Ava’s other hand. “I got your back, babe.”
“I am here, Ava,” Beatrice added, “whatever you decide, I will support you.”
Ava opened her mouth to reply, but instead let out a scream as a contraction hit, short and sharp.
“Fuck!” She cried.
——————————————————
There was a lull in Ava’s contractions and she’d dozed off as Jillian and Camilla had gotten to know each other with Beatrice acting as a balancing wheel. She’d not had much contact with Camila previously, but the other woman proved to be charming and engaging, and as it turned out, like Beatrice, she too was a software engineer, albeit for a small web developer. Jillian was a biochemist, but she’d done her share of coding, so aside from Ava, they quickly found some common ground in shop talk.
“Hello, mum,” said a tall blond man as he entered the room. “Car’s all set and Yasmine and Lilith went back to the house with Shannon to set up the crib and furniture.”
“You may have jumped the gun, Sweetheart,” Jillian said, “there is some question as to whether Ava will even keep the baby.”
The man opened his mouth, then shut it. “So it’s a good thing I kept the receipt?”
“Kept it or throw it on the floor of your car?” Ava asked, opening her eyes, “it’s not a filing cabinet.”
The man’s face split into a wide grin as he came over to the bed in a manner that could only be described as “moseying”. At the bed, he put his hands on his hips and looked down at her. Ava returned his look. “So,” he said at last, “you do realize that the lack of decision is affecting the chances of three cakes. One for the wedding, one for the bridal shower, and one for a baby shower. It’s very inconsiderate to the cake lovers in our respective social circles.”
“Inconsiderate?” Ava demanded, “you oversized Ralph Lauren ad, inconsiderate would be not drowning you in a bowl of soup and doing the rest of our ‘respective social circles’ a favor.”
“No,” Jillian said, clamping her hands around Camila and Beatrice’s wrists, even pulling them back from the bed. “This is how they communicate.” Indeed, both Ava and the man were smirking at each other as they bickered.
“Drown me?” The blond man scoffed, “that’s rich given that you’re currently laid out like the cow tools in Far Side.”
Jillian pulled them further away. “Micheal and Ava have a somewhat contentious relationship and for reasons I have never been able to understand, they thrive on it.” She raised her voice. “Michael, we’re going to the cafeteria for tea. Do you want anything?”
“An espresso for me, and more ice chips for her,” Micheal replied.
“How about I rip off your dick and arrrrrgh!” Ava’s hand clamped on his, her other on her middle as she tried to breathe through the contraction, Micheal immediately counting her through the breaths.
“We’re fine,” he said, and went back to counting.
“When did you learn Lamaze?” Ava demanded.
“Yasmine read an article on it while we were driving to the store.”
“And read the street signs to you too, I bet.”
“She’s supportive like that. We’re getting married by the way, which is two of the three aforementioned cakes”
“Congratulations, how drunk did you have to get her before she said yes?”
Jillian pulled them out of the room entirely.
“Ava’s mother helped me build Arq-Tek,” Jillian explained as the walked to the hospital cafeteria, “but she was also something of a free spirit and, shall we say, took affection where she found it. She died when Ava was seven, car crash. When Ava came to live with me, she and Micheal took an immediate dislike to each other which has somehow mutated into well, that.” She waved a hand back over her shoulder. “But Ava also inherited Lauren’s fiercely independent nature. We were already arguing when she began dating Terry, and I . . . chose my words poorly. She dropped out of university, moved out, and refused all attempts at contact by myself or Micheal. Her friend Shannon has been the only way I knew she was still alive. I’m sure Ava thinks Shannon is spying on her for me, but in truth, she has simply been providing . . . proof of life.”
“I didn’t like him either,” Camila said, “but I’ve seen my share of couples and polys that seem like trouble at first glance, but are so rock solid you’d think it was made up. I mean, he never made messes, and Ava was happy, so I figured, hey, hidden depths. Then one day, I came home to find her crying on the couch shoveling corn chips into her mouth like she was gassing up a car. Then she switched to calling him every name under the sun, so we bitched, and then she told me she found out he cheated on her. He came over for a hookup, she called him out, they argued, broke up, had angry breakup sex, and then she threw him out.” She spread her hands. “She spent the next six months on the couch when not at work eating junk food and working her way through every kdrama on Netflix. I noticed the weight gain and wondered, but also, not my place to ask.”
“I too, had noticed,” Beatrice said, “but I have no experience in such things and I was trying to be supportive while she looked for a new job.”
“Yeah, the guy who runs the joint is an asshole. He owns like twelve different KO Burgers, but he wouldn’t let her transfer because he likes her ‘work ethic’, which really means he didn’t want to do paperwork.”
“Ava once described him as the sort of person who, if not for the Health Department, would stock the restroom with neither soap nor toiletries,” Beatrice said. “She has also made repeated references to how he would employ black mold and robots were it an option.”
“Or robots made of black mold,” Camila said, “have you heard her rant about the vents and raccoons?”
Beatrice smiled, “I have. I told her she should write a musical based on it.”
“I’m sure she is,” Jillian said.
Camila chuckled and then sobered. “She has been scribbling in a notebook lately . . . and she borrowed my tablet the other day. I happened to look at the history and she was all over ebay looking at used keytars. I didn’t know she was musical.”
Now it was Jillian’s turn to laugh. “When I said she dropped out of university, it was that she did so in the middle of a master’s in mathematics.” Camila and Beatrice stopped and stared, mouths open. “She also has twin bachelors in music and physics and is quite mechanical.”
“Wow?” Camila said after a moment as they started walking again. “I mean, cool, but . . .”
“Ava delights in contradictions,” Jillian said, “particularly when it comes to other people’s perceptions of her.”
“It is her most endearing and frustrating trait,” Beatrice agreed.
————————————
“Jillian?”
Jillian looked up from her phone. The sun was beginning to set, turning the sky outside the window bright orange, yellow, and red, the window casting those same colors across the wall. Micheal, perceptive as he was, had insisted that he take Beatrice and the others to dinner, including Ava’s co-worker Chanel, who had brought her stuff, and had apparently hit it off with Lilith.
Ah, to be young.
“Yes, Ava,” Jillian asked, putting her phone away and giving her goddaughter her full attention. Micheal taking the others to dinner also gave her and Ava a chance to talk if the younger woman wanted to.
Ava looked small in the hospital bed, her hair up in a bun, her earrings now in a small bag in Jillian’s purse, and exhaustion in her eyes. Ava’s contractions were occurring more often and more frequently, but they were short and sharp, and they were wearing on her, sapping her strength. “Was it this hard for you?”
“I don’t know about hard,” Jillian said, “but it was quick.” She smiled. “It seemed that Michael couldn’t wait to be born and I couldn’t wait to meet him.”
Ava turned her eyes to the ceiling. “Is that why this is taking so long? Like, I’m so conflicted about whether or not to keep the kid its holding things up? I keep wondering what my mom would say. Obviously she kept, but like, what would she think I should do?”
Jillian took Ava’s hand. Lauren Silva might have been her best friend, but time had taught her that their friendship had carried an element of codependency and she’d long wondered if Lauren getting pregnant was less a result of her lifestyle and more that she wanted to copy Jillian. “Your mother was a very complicated woman, Ava,” she said, “one of the smartest and most direct people I’ve ever known, and also the most chaotic. She made her choices and accepted the results, or consequences, as they happened. I do know she wanted you, and the smile on her face when you were first placed in her arms was the most open and joyous I have ever seen on anyone, but neither will I put her on a pedestal. She was just a little bit mad, but she loved you, Ava, that I promise you.”
“Which doesn’t answer my question,” Ava said sourly.
Jillian sighed. “No it doesn’t,” she admitted. “In truth, I don’t know. I think - I hope - she would have supported your decision, regardless, but she likely would not have let you walk away from her either as I did. You would have had months instead of hours to figure this out. I’m sorry this is happening all at once to you, Ava, and I wish there was more I could do.”
Ava was quiet for several minutes. “I loved him, Jillian. I was planning a life together.” Tears brimmed in her eyes. “I was going to make it. Me. I was going to . . . to prove . . .” She broke down, sobbing.
Jillian took some Kleenex, pressing the tissue into her hands so that Ava could blow her nose. Then more tissue to dry her eyes.
“At the risk of platitudes,” Jillian said, “you have nothing to prove. Not to me, and I daresay your mother would be more mad at you for thinking so than anything else. I could have chosen my words better, Ava, and for that I’m sorry.”
“And you told me so about Terry,” Ava said, almost acidly.
“No. Terry . . . God knows I’ve had heartbreak, and it hurts to see that he was yours, but no, no ‘I told you so’, only . . . camaraderie.” She took Ava’s hand. “Ava, you are so much like your mother it scares me, and as much as I admire her ‘do or do not’ approach to life, I’m simply not like that, and perhaps, in raising you, I wanted you to be more like me; to look before leaping and even take the long way around, the safer way, and in that, I tried too hard.”
“Or not enough -agh!“ Ava grimaced, one hand coming up to rub her stomach. “Fuck, I probably would have wound up here no matter what. God, I’m so fucking stupid.”
“Ava, you are learning. The hard way, perhaps, but you are learning.” She paused. “My Aunt Susan always told me that love is a teacher. Each relationship you experience is a piece in a complex puzzle that, one day, if you put in the effort, will suddenly make beautiful, perfect sense.”
Ava gave her a dry look. “Isn’t your Aunt Susan the one who’s been married twelve times in forty years?”
“Thirteen now. It was a very nice wedding and Greece was lovely. Her point was, I think, that most people don’t get it right the first time and sometimes not even the second or third, but you learn each time.”
Ava sighed. “I thought we had it made. Just Fast Car the whole thing, you know? I was tired of the club scene, tired of noise, just tired, and then I found out he cheated on me with some other clubber and he was so blasé about it when I called his ass out. Like it was no big deal. I still don’t know how we wound up having sex. Then it sucked seeing his ass at work, but you know, at least it was over and done.” She laid a hand on her stomach. “And I didn’t even know until today that it’s not. That it will never be.”
“Ava, it is as over as you wish it to be. I have very good lawyers, and if you want, I can make it so ironclad that the baby won’t be able to find out so much as your gender.”
Ava actually laughed and then sobered again. “And what if I change my mind? Or I regret giving the kid up later, or God, what if Terry wants to pull some father’s rights shit?”
“We can work that out,” Jillian said, “but right now, there is a child coming into this world - nothing can be done to change that, and everything else is negotiable.”
Ava gave her a searching look and then she looked past her to the window, watching the light change. “What was it Marta always said?” She asked, referring to Jillian’s old housekeeper, a Spanish Woman built like a brick wall and utterly unafraid of anything, including her employer’s wrath. She’d ruled the household with an iron fist and her death had felt like cutting off a limb.
“Mañana es un nuevo día,” Jillian replied, “Tomorrow is a new day.”
“And a new day means new choices.”
“It does,” Jillian agreed, “new choices, new possibilities, and new problems. Still, nothing about the future is set in stone and our choices, good or bad, are what moves us forward. That’s all we can really do; keep moving forward.”
Ava’s face creased up into a grimace and her hand tightened on Jillian’s before her grip relaxed. “Yeah,” she said, “forward.”
She looked up at the ceiling and then her expression relaxed; she’d made her choice.
——————————————————
AUTHOR’S NOTES:
I’m ending this here partly because I’ve seem to run out of steam on it, despite several other ideas, and partly because I think it suits Ava in this fic to leave the question of the baby open ended.
Spanish Translation via Google Translate.