[a/n] in celebration of getting 300,000 votes (thank you so so much lovelies!!) here's a bonus chapter into the lives of twenty-seven year old elliot and and twenty-six year old vienna...after the road trip and before the stuff in the epilogue happens x
VIENNA'S POV
AFTER TAKING ALMOST A HUNDRED AIRPLANE RIDES in my entire life, I still couldn't get used to that floating feeling of wanting to puke on the person next to me as soon as I landed. My ears still wouldn't pop, and the plane was already having a delay even though we were already landed. I don't think I'd ever get used to flying. Honestly, I'd much rather be on the ground — train, car, tour bus, motorbike gang — anything but being in the air.
We'd been in the cabin for almost thirty minutes now. I glanced at my phone and saw Elliot staring back at me in the lockscreen. It was a picture of the time he was studying in Greece, and he was standing shirtless on a dock, and in one hand, he held a bouquet but not of roses or any other flowers. Instead, it was a bouquet of corn for our one-year anniversary of dating. I didn't know whether to want to kill him or fly to Greece instantly. The lock screen was my favorite picture of him, but all I could focus on was the time. It was already late into the night, well past midnight, and my body just wanted to break down.
After leaving the Philippines for my fifth humanitarian aid trip in three years, I should've been used to this dragging feeling on my body and the lingering feeling of the sun's kiss on my shoulders once I started breathing the San Francisco air. Nope, I thought. Still not used to it.
After about thirty more agonizingly slow minutes, the flight attendants finally opened the door. "Excuse me," I mumbled politely at the elderly woman sitting next to me, who I practically hopped over just to get to my bags.
"Sorry!" I cried, when I whacked some man in the forehead with the wheels of my carry-on luggage whilst lifting it out of the overhead containers. "So sorry!"
I was the first one out, and I felt like collapsing right onto the soft, plush carpets of the airport. My stomach started clenching, like it always did just when I was about to see him. This time, though, it felt slightly different and more on the nauseous side. My hand instantly went to my wedding ring, anxiously spinning it round and round my ring finger. I scanned the airport furiously for the same tuft of brown hair followed by three identically small ones.
"Mommy!"
I spun around to the source of the voice, knowing that high-pitched tone anywhere.
"Luca!"
My bags dropped to the floor with a loud thud, and I fell to my knees as my son ran to me, his stubby little three-year-old feet moving so fast, it created a blur under his waist. Luca was chubbier than his brothers so when he collapsed into my arms, it was the equivalent as hugging the world's fluffiest marshmallow to my chest.
"Oh, I missed you," I said to his hair, breathing in the familiar scent of his cotton-candy shampoo. "Mommy missed you for a week, but it was such a long week."
Behind him, I could see the wheels of one year old Sebastian's stroller come pulling up and inside, the world's happiest little baby was cooing and drooling all over his blue bibs. His arms reached out for me while he started laughing, something that made my heart soar straight to the moon and never come back. Just thinking that that noise was made by a little tiny person, and that little tiny person was given life by being inside of me — it still hasn't hit me.
"Mommy," another boy, the eldest of the three, knelt down and wrapped both short arms around me and Luca. His name was Gabriel, and he was serious and solemn, but when he smiled, it was like seeing Elliot for the first time too. He was only five, but he was already so responsible, it was insane. It was like having a little grown-up trapped inside a tiny, superhero-obsessed body.
"Come on boys, give your mom some space, she needs a breather before you start jumping on her like hyenas."
My eyes closed and the smile on my face started growing larger. Now that voice, I'd know anywhere, no matter how many countries I'd go to and people I'd meet.
I lifted my head up and my little boys both knew to let go. Sebastian cried out in glee, and I completely related to him. Elliot stood in front of me wearing a maroon-plaid cotton flannel. His hands were shoved in his dark-washed jeans and his boots were partly covered with mud. His hair, too. He'd grown a small beard since I'd left, and his eyes were worn and tired. Still, at twenty-seven, my husband looked better than ever.
My body collapsed into his and I finally felt home for the first time since I'd landed. His arms, thick and muscular, wrapped me tightly and meshed into my skin. I inhaled a big whiff of his pine-tree and cotton smell that was his trademark Elliot fragrance and I almost wanted to cry. God, he felt so good.
"Welcome home, Vienna Sausage," he whispered into my hair. He pulled apart from me, but I shook my head.
"Just a minute longer," I mumbled, closing my eyes tighter. I remember the night I left him in that hospital when we were younger, and I can't imagine why I ever did.
He laughed softly, so quiet that it was only us who could hear. "Come on, we've been waiting for an hour, the kids are tired. Let's get you home. Besides, we have time to catch up tonight."
I shook my head, grinning. "Duh."
Reluctantly, I broke apart from him, and Elliot moved to take my bags. I wanted to stand and stare at him forever, beside my little family that the both of us created. I could feel a swell in my heart, the surge of pride just washing over my body, and my stomach wanting to empty out all its contents in one big vomit.
Wait, what?
Suddenly, I couldn't take it anymore. My body had been aching on the plane, but not like this. I hunched over and instantly, my breakfast, lunch and dinner came out and exploded all over the airport carpet in an array of colors and textures. A hush fell over the passengers staring at me and Sebastian started crying. Elliot let out a small gasp before running over and rubbing my back. I continued to spew out and vomit until there'd be nothing left inside of me but my organs.
I'd only ever felt this sick exactly three times, and after each time, a little boy was born nine months later.
I exchanged a worried glance with Elliot, who knew from experience what my projectile vomiting meant— after three little maniacs, you'd become an expert. Normally, though, each time he would be ecstatic. Even though we had Gabriel when he was only twenty-two and we were both just out of college, I don't think I've ever seen Elliot ugly-cry and happy-cry at the same time. Even though we got married the week after I graduated from Duke and were living in a small little condo that was given to us by our parents, and we knew completely nothing of raising a little kid let alone a newborn baby — we were happy.
But now, Elliot frowned and couldn't look me in the eye. Some people offered paper towels to us and he cleaned me up, asking if I wanted to borrow his jacket or change into my other clothes, but he wouldn't look at me, not once till we finally got home.
Our home was a tiny little thing, but it was something we both worked on with our blood and sweat. It was only ten minutes off the coast, and was a one-story beige stucco building with two bedrooms and a small backyard with a tire swing. It was filled with things Elliot and I collected on our trips around the world — African masks from the Congo, a fan from Tokyo, and thousands of magnets — and was cozy and comfy. It wasn't the biggest thing in the world, but it would do.
"Don't forget to brush your teeth before you go to bed, Luca!" Elliot whispered intensely, as Luca began tearing off his pants and underwear the second he got home. Sebastian was sound asleep in Elliot's arms, and he disappeared through the master bedroom to put him to sleep.
Gabriel tapped my shoulder. "I'll go help Luca get ready to sleep. Night, Mommy."
"Oh, good night my little brave boy," I kissed him on both cheeks, "I'll tuck you in once I change my clothes, okay?"
He ran off to the room he shared with his brother and shut the door, and I instantly made a beeline for the bathroom. I almost tripped on a dozen action figures on the way, and pricked my toes at least three times on Legos and the occasional toy gun. I locked the door and of course, the toilet seat was up. I inwardly groaned before cringing at the smell. The bathroom was a mess, with toothpaste streaks everywhere, a toothbrush on the floor, and the mirror having mysterious puddles of ooze of different colors on it. I was only gone for a week and it looked like a tornado of boys ripped through the place.
Sighing heavily, I pulled out the pregnancy test that Elliot got me on the way here with shaking fingers. When he got it for me from the store, he still wouldn't look me in the eyes.
I followed the instructions and sat on the toilet, waiting with the test in my hands and my head held down. My eyes were already watering. After a while, Elliot came knocking on the door. Before I even got a chance to unlock it, he came through.
"How did you—"
"While you were gone, Luca locked Seb in here and drew all over his face with markers. Thank God they were washable, but I got someone to break the lock on this door from now on. If its locked, it basically meant Gabriel and Luca were committing some crime in here."
I nodded silently. He closed the door and knelt down beside me.
"Does it say..."
I flashed him the pregnancy stick while I looked away with my eyes closed.
Elliot sighed heavily, bringing a hand to his tired face. "Vienna, we can't afford another kid."
"What do you expect me to do, Elliot?"
He shook his head, eyes downcast. "We barely have enough as it is. We have the mortgage to think about, and the car. The monthly payment for the car is insane, I don't know why its so high. And Gabriel's going to school this year and he needs school supplies, and Luca's been in and out of the doctors for weeks now because of—"
"I know what we have to do, Elliot, you don't have to remind me. I'm the one paying the bills."
As soon as it came out of my mouth, I cursed to myself.
Elliot stood up slowly, stiffening at the sight of me. "E-Excuse me?"
I dropped the positive pregnancy stick in the trash, running a hand through my hair. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean...I'm just tired—"
"Are you kidding me, Vienna?"
He'd never spoken to me like this before. He was pissed, and he had a right to be.
"Elliot, the boys are sleeping, keep your voice down..."
"You know what, Vienna? No. I won't. I've been staying here with them and taking care of them and I'm the one whose been slaving over them for weeks, whenever you're gone to who knows where," he leaned in, his voice rising, "I had an internship with that law office I've been trying so hard to get into, and countless offers for managing positions at restaurants all across the pier. But since you were gone, again, I had to stay and watch the kids and miss them!"
My jaw dropped. If he had kicked me in the face, it would've been less painful. "Elliot, it's my job. I'm not traveling to war-torn and disaster-stricken places for fun! I'm finally in a good position with the Red Cross, I'm part of the board of Directors, and the pay is good!"
"Not enough," he shook his head. "Not for three kids and certainly not for four."
"Okay, so what? You want to take them back? Put them right back inside of me? Maybe drop them off on some corner and never look back!"
Elliot's eyes flashed, his voice getting louder. "Vienna, I never said that. Stop putting words into my mouth."
"God, Elliot, these are our kids! Our family!" I started taking off my ring, while his eyes were trained on it. "You promised me. You said 'for better or for worse.' Was that a lie?"
I held up my wedding ring in his face, and it was as if I got slammed to the floor face-first when he looked away.
"I don't know how we can make ends meet if we have another kid!" His voice rises in aggravation. "I wanted to stop after we had Luca."
"So you don't love Sebastian? You don't love her?" Instantly, my hand went to my belly, even though it was shaking like hell. I grabbed his hand and brought his palm to touch it too. There was someone in there, as far as I was concerned. Someone who was a piece of me and a piece of Elliot put together miraculously.
Elliot stared at me, those brown eyes so familiar and yet, so strange right now. For a while, there was only silence between us, dividing us like thick, muggy air. We've never fought like this. "How do you know it's a her?" he asked, so faint that I could barely hear it at first.
"I've always wanted a baby girl," I murmured.
"Vienna..." Elliot shook his head, before lifting his hand away from my stomach. "Why do I feel like we just jumped head first into everything so fast? I'm twenty seven and what, we already have three kids? How did this happen before even got steady jobs?"
I could only gaze at him with a hurting heart. I didn't have an answer.
"Because," I stammered, "Because we wanted to. I thought you wanted this?"
"Not this fast," he stepped back, shaking his head. "All my life, growing up, I was always struggling whenever my parents struggled. I want to give our kids better than that but here we are. History's repeating itself again and I just want it to stop before it gets even worse. Before it spins out of control."
"So, what? You want to quit?" I asked. "Huh? Is that it?"
My voice was quivering now, and I fought to hold it together. But my eyes were already feeling heavy and now they were glossy too.
"N-No, of course not," he fought. "I'm just...I'm turning in for the night. Good night."
When he opened the door, two little faces stared right back at us, complete replicas of my husband.
"Why is Mommy and Dada yelling in the pee-pee room?" Luca asked, his doe-eyes burning through our souls.
Elliot grabbed Luca and threw him in the air once, before he fell into his arms laughing and screaming. "It's just a sign we love each other, buddy. Like we love you, right? Now let's get you to bed."
He left without another word. That only left Gabriel, staring at me quietly.
"Come on, baby, let's go to sleep," but Gabriel kept staring, frowning. Then, without a word, he went to his room by himself without waiting for me or asking me to tuck him in.
Like father, like son.
* * *
A week later, I woke up in the middle of the night to bleeding sheets. There was red, red, red everywhere, and I knew this wasn't right because I felt like my insides were being torn apart by barbed wire. I reached for my thighs and my fingers could only feel the sticky sensation of blood.
"Elliot," I croaked, my voice not coming out in a solid noise at first. My free hand could have prodded him awake but I couldn't move. I was paralyzed with fear, and I suddenly forgot how to scream. "Elliot. Elliot, wake up."
He mumbled in his sleep, before he turned to look at me with sleepy eyes. We barely talked in a week, and he slept on the couch the first night we fought. We hadn't spoken about the baby ever since.
"Sebastian isn't crying," he said, his eyes still closed.
But I was. I could feel the wet hot stream of tears falling down my face and even though I didn't let out a yelp or a shriek, I was shaking. "Elliot, turn on the light."
"Vienna?"
He finally sat up and did what I told him. He blinked, being caught off guard by the harsh light, and suddenly, there was more blood than I ever imagined on our bed.
Elliot's breath got caught in his throat and he grabbed his jacket and keys before throwing his jacket on me and carrying me into his arms. It was as if he knew, too. He ran to the car, not bothering to change, while I rested my head on his chest. I stopped crying, and I stopped screaming. I think I stopped breathing for a while too. The whole world stopped around me, but it kept spinning and spinning. Elliot's frantic footsteps on the driveway and the sound of faint cars on the highway became hollow and tinny, like a muffled noise. I brought my hand up and saw the red, dried blood again.
"The boys..." I whispered as he put me into a seatbelt and pressed on the gas to the hospital.
"I'll call the next door neighbors to keep an eye on them while we're gone," he said mindlessly, and I felt the car lurch over twenty miles over the speed limit.
I grabbed Elliot's hand tightly off the steering wheel. "Elliot...we don't have to speed."
His fingers latched onto mine tight, squeezing them every few moments or so. "We're almost there. We can save it. We can save her." He stepped on the gas pedal harder.
I glanced down at my pajamas, now bloodied. I couldn't feel anything inside me. I didn't feel that sensation of carrying another human being. I didn't feel a heartbeat. It was an empty house, with no one living in it anymore. My hand stroked my stomach, and I burst into tears, and I couldn't stop. My chest heaved up and down, and I felt numb, all over.
We got to the hospital and Elliot almost ran over some nurses to get me a wheelchair. I don't remember what I saw, or heard. All I remember was white; white doctor coats, white rooms, white floors and white lights. I was strung up to machines, I got carried to a bed. Elliot was hovering over me, but I hovered in and out. He never once let go of my hand.
It was strange. I didn't need to come here, to the hospital. I already knew what was wrong even before the doctor came with that sympathetic, sad puppy dog face that he must have pulled on before every patient with terrible, life-changing news.
"My baby is gone," I whispered to the ceiling, my cheeks damp. "She's gone."
I'd had a miscarriage. They said it was a small one, barely even noticeable since it was barely formed yet.
Barely noticeable, I wanted to laugh in their faces.
Beside me, Elliot had his face into his hands, rocking back and forth into his seat. "I'm so sorry, Vienna. I'm so sorry, I didn't mean it to happen like this."
I craned my neck and reached out for him with the hand that was stuck with needles and wires.
He shook his head, sobbing into his hands. I couldn't see his face. "Dammit. It's my fault. I should have wanted her."
"Come here," I croaked. My voice was almost next to nothing.
"I should have wanted her more, when I had the chance."
"Elliot."
When Elliot looked up, his eyes were bloodshot. "You look awful," I muttered, and he laughed, wiping his wet cheeks. He was shaking when he kissed my forehead. His lips were wet and his tears made his cheeks cold. "It's not your fault," I mumbled, "No one caused this. We couldn't have seen this coming."
He knelt down on the floor and clasped my hand in both of his. "I'm sorry for what I said, Vienna. I'm sorry for how I acted. I wasn't a good husband...I was selfish..."
"Stop—"
"I just want to be a good dad—"
"—Elliot, you are."
"I'm sorry."
"Me too."
That was when I remember breaking down again. I had never lost a child before. I don't know how it happened, but it did. I never got to see what she could have been, or who she could have loved. A part of me and a part of Elliot was just...gone.
But in that hospital room, something else came from it. Me and Elliot finally knew of the real world now. We weren't stupid, naive little high schoolers anymore.
After my miscarriage, I often sat in our room alone with the windows tightly shut. It was as if a part of me was ruined. I couldn't eat for days, I couldn't even bring myself to take a shower. It was like I was in a coma, but I was fully awake, noticing how Elliot wouldn't stop bringing me my favorite takeaway, and how he would often sit down beside me, reading a book to me and stroking my hair with his fingers. I hadn't spoken for days, but it was like he knew just what to do. He would clean my face with a warm towel, change my sheets, brush my hair.
"I still love you," he would murmur. Always.
A year after that, we had our baby girl that I always wanted. Her name was Laurel.
The time that I lost that baby was one of the lowest, most agonizingly painful times of my life. But I don't think I could ever take it back, or want to skip it completely, because me and Elliot would get through this, and anything else. If anything, after that, we became stronger. Together.
* * *
[a/n] sorry lol