#i have blocked every string of words i could think of related to 'vote blue' and it's so peaceful. i am not reading all that

[quixoticanarchy]

fucking love filtered tags and filtered post content. filtered post content my beloved save me from the most wretched of opinions on this cursèd site

[laurenwritesfics]

Untidy Lives (Preview)

YEAR ONE:

There was only one person April Kepner could truly count on to brighten up a dull day – her mother, Karen, and it seemed she had taken that duty literally. Crunching up the driveway in white heels and a sunshine yellow dress, she greeted April with a screech, enveloping her in a tight hug.

Today, Harriet Kepner-Avery was turning one.

“Hi, Mom.”

“Hi, honey.” Karen pulled back, holding April’s wrists. “Let me look at you.” Her eyes drifted from her daughter’s warm cinnamon hair to her loose blouse, jeans and white sneakers. Throughout April’s adolescence, people had gushed over how much she looked like her mother. Now, she was an entirely separate person. No longer her mother’s shadow. Karen tutted. “Is this what you’re wearing?”

April sighed. “I didn’t have time-“

“Nonsense,” Karen wafted a hand, “your father’s getting the gifts from the car. Go freshen up. We’ll keep the birthday girl occupied for a little while. Besides…” she trailed off, miming a gagging motion and nodding towards the stain on her shoulder. April pulled at the soft cotton and frowned. How long had that stain been there? She didn’t know. The discovery of the stain had diverted her train of thought. She leaned over Karen’s shoulder and caught a glimpse of the familiar blue Volvo.

“Wait, Dad’s here?”

Karen was interrupted – a rare occurrence in their almost forty year marriage – by her husband, Joe. He ambled towards the two of them, lugging a stack of immaculately wrapped gifts.

“Well, hello there Little Miss!”

“Dad! I thought you were working on the farm?”

“What, and miss my granddaughter’s first birthday? Not a chance!” Joe chortled. Karen took two boxes from the top of the pile when Joe arrived at the doorstep. “And I wasn’t talking to you, I was talking to this one.” He inclined his head, his voice soft and peppy as he reached past April to tweak Harriet’s nose.

April whipped around to see Matthew bouncing a half-asleep Harriet in his arms. “She’s supposed to be napping for another hour.” She chided.

“I know, but it’s her first birthday. I don’t want her to miss it.”

“She’ll miss it when she uses her ice cream cake as a pillow because she didn’t get a whole nap.”

Matthew huffed. “I think Mommy underestimates me.”

April ignored him, one foot in the doorway. “I’m gonna go change my shirt. You can put the gifts in the living room.”

Karen followed her inside while Matthew, Harriet and Joe moved to the back yard.

As much as she hated to admit it, her mother was right. Changing into a floral blouse and a pair of flats – and at Karen’s insistence, some light makeup – although April felt tired, she didn’t look it anymore. With a final scrunch of her hair and a pop of her lips, she peered out of the bedroom window. Harriet was sat in the grass, her tiny fingers wrapped around the string of a pink balloon. Jackson was pulling the string, making it bob up and down, much to Harriet’s delight. Shit. Jackson. She had assumed he would be late, fresh from the hospital. She blinked rapidly, taken aback, and rushed out of the room. Karen found April with her head in the refrigerator.

“Mom, can you get the candles?”

“What’s the rush?” Karen exclaimed.

April tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, leaning back to meet her mother’s baffled gaze. “Jackson’s here.”

“Oh.” She replied flatly, rifling through every drawer in the kitchen island. “Where are the darn matches?”

“I’m married to a First Responder, remember? They’re in a super-secret safe place that nobody on Earth can find.”

“Of course,” she shook her head in amusement “I’ll go ask him.”

“No,” April stepped away from the refrigerator to block her path “I’ll go. The paper plates and napkins are in the-“

“Third drawer, I know.” Karen pressed a hand to her cheek. “Take a breath. Go out there and enjoy it. I can take care of everything.”

Karen Kepner was a woman of her word. She had fussed over Harriet from the moment she was born. April would usually have found this irritating, but losing Samuel, her first-born, changed that. Karen dropped everything to be with April and Jackson while they grieved. While Jackson worked and April sat sobbing on the couch in their cramped condo. When April got up in the middle of the night, convinced she could hear his cries and Jackson couldn’t console her. What might have seemed like interfering before was now a blessing. Harriet was a blessing. And April was going to experience every moment with her to the fullest extent.

Outside, Joe and Matthew were hunched over the barbecue.

“Mommy’s here!” Matthew hollered, a few whoops and cheers sounding behind him. He sauntered over to April and wrapped his arms around her, lowering his voice to a sultry whisper. “And Mommy looks hot.”

April pressed a chaste kiss to his lips. “I should go and say hi to everyone before the cake’s brought out.” Her hands slipped from his chest. It wasn’t hard for Matthew to work out that by ‘everyone’, she meant Jackson. She mingled with family and friends, ate one of Joe’s famous almost-cremated burgers, cuddled and cooed at Harriet. From the outside, it looked easy for her. On the inside, it took every ounce of strength she had.

The moment her eyes locked with Jackson’s, Matthew strolled over, one hand placed protectively on the small of her back. Her past and her present stood before her, and the only similarity between them was the brand of beer they were drinking. Jackson removed one hand from the pocket of his grey hoodie to offer Matthew an awkward handshake.

“No Maggie?” April probed.

“We broke up.” Jackson rubbed the back of his shaved head. “A while ago.”

“Oh, sorry.” April scrunched her nose and inhaled sharply.

“Yeah. I was seeing someone, actually – a paramedic – but we, uh…” He glanced at his feet.

“Ah.” April nodded.

“That sucks, buddy.” Matthew smacked Jackson on the arm. It was like this every time Matthew and Jackson met. Awkward. Stunted. A sterile attempt at civility.

Harriet toddled over, held up by Joe. He wiggled her arms to make it look as if she was waving. “Little Miss was chewing her fist, so I think it’s time for cake.” Jackson bent down as Joe handed her over. “I’ll go help your mother in the kitchen.” He smoothed his shirt. “At least I won’t have to call 911 in an emergency.”

“Good luck.” April quipped.

Jackson’s eyes popped, making Harriet giggle. He, April and Matthew burst into laughter. She was the glue that held their paper-thin relationship together.

A discordant rendition of ‘Happy Birthday’ drifted from the kitchen as Joe and Karen emerged with a large pink ice cream cake. Jackson bounced Harriet and kissed her wispy hair. A single candle wilted, unlit, in the center. Still, they mimed blowing it out. Matthew stuffed the candle in his pocket before the cake was set down on the patio table. April held Harriet to her hip and pulled up a chair.

“Everybody grab a plate!” She yelled, and the crowd scattered. They returned to the sight of Harriet happily digging her fist into the cake.

When the time came to open Harriet’s gifts, everyone gathered in the living room to watch her grab and teethe on the corners of the boxes. The first gift was from Matthew’s mother, Patricia, who Harriet had dubbed Tee-Tee. Her relationship with April was complicated, but not complicated enough to stop her from spending time with her second granddaughter. Harriet already owned a sensory play set, but still they appreciated the gesture, thanking her with kind eyes.

“Say thank you, Tee-Tee.” April encouraged Harriet, pointing to Patricia.

Harriet’s lips grappled with the word for a moment. Then, an outburst of “Tee-Tee!”

Patricia smiled, walking over to the couch to sweep her palm across Harriet’s hair and press a kiss to the crown of her head. The next gift came from Jackson’s mother, Catherine, and step-father Richard. A beautifully engraved silver piggy bank with a dollar tucked into the slot.

“It’s never too early to start saving. Especially if she’s going to get into Harvard.” She quirked a perfectly curved eyebrow and smiled.

“Catherine!” Richard playfully chided.

“Thank you.” April said again, beginning to feel the words lose their meaning.

Joe and Karen had bought an assortment of farm-related toys and books, which made April roll her eyes. Harriet immediately shoved the rubbery head of a cow into her mouth.

Matthew and April’s gift, a sit-to-stand walker, was yet another addition to Harriet’s collection of pink items. When they had decorated the nursery, Matthew’s only comment was that it looked as though someone had poured Pepto-Bismol over everything. April countered this with the argument that it would encourage Harriet to unapologetically embrace her femininity. Besides, she was sharing the room with Matthew’s daughter Ruby. As usual, he was out-voted by estrogen. So, he buckled under the weight of his love for his three favorite girls.

April heard the subtle hitch of Matthew’s breath beside her. He was smiling, but it was a tight-jawed, forced smile. She knew exactly what – or rather, who - was running through his mind. Karin. Sometimes at night, when April tucked Harriet and Ruby’s blankets into their cribs, she would stare at Ruby, examining every detail of her face. Every faint line on her palms. She felt guilty. Sitting here, watching her own daughter celebrate the milestone that Karin never would. A lump formed in her throat. She reached for Matthew’s hand, but he pulled away. He harrumphed, shifted against the cushions and promptly excused himself. He returned ten minutes later with a glass of water and puffy eyes.

“If you need to take a minute, it’s okay.”

“No, I’m good.”

“Matthew,” April rubbed his arm “take a couple minutes. Get some air. Please?”

He chugged the last of the water and wordlessly agreed, slipping out into the garden. He watched Jackson present April with a hefty 3-in-1 stroller – the one she’d been lusting after for a month. He watched her fumble with its clips to detach the balance bike and plop Harriet onto the seat. He watched another man be the father he would never be. A deep ache spread through him and he leaned against the cool fence, glancing up at the nursery window. He took a long moment to forgive himself for the act of betrayal he was about to commit, then he headed back inside, softly thudding up the stairs. He sat with Ruby for, well, he didn’t know how long, but it was long enough for him to catch a glimpse of Karin. For him to apologize to her with a prayer. Long enough for him to feel guilty for disappearing.

Downstairs, Jackson grabbed another beer from the refrigerator. He turned to April, who was mixing a rum and coke for her mother, and pulled an envelope from his pocket.

“April?” He tapped her on the shoulder. “I know I’ve already given Harriet a gift, but this is something extra. Just a small thing, I promise. I didn’t wanna make a big deal out of it back there.”

“Why?” April ripped the envelope open and her lips parted in confusion. Inside was a receipt for a monthly toy box subscription. “Jackson, what is this?”

“I’m not around all the time. I don’t get to take her to playgroup every week or build blocks with her or read The Velveteen Rabbit. This is my way of being there. I don’t wanna be that guy. The father who slips in and out of his child’s life. I can’t do that to her.”

“Jackson,” April gazed up at him, sharing the sadness in his eyes “you are not your father. If you wanna see her more often, we can work something out.”

Matthew entered the kitchen, dropped his glass in the sink and glared at the two of them. “Sorry for interrupting.” He slunk away.

“Can we?” Jackson quipped.

April rubbed her face and placed the envelope on the kitchen island. “I should get back out there before Dad has another beer and starts doing impressions of farm animals.”

Later, when the house was empty and Harriet had been put to bed messy-mouthed and content, April and Matthew were left to pick up the discarded pieces of wrapping paper and conversation. They sat the dining table, each waiting for the other to speak first. Matthew rolled a beer bottle between his palms as he tried to organize his thoughts. April traced the patterns in the wood-grain, eyes darting up to meet Matthew’s.

“Wanna talk about it?” She prompted, met only with silence. She leaned forward, palm pressed against her cheek. “I know it’s hard, but it would be nice if you let me in every once in a while.”

He replied with a non-committal grunt.

“Say something. Anything. Please, Matthew.” After a beat, she pushed back from the table and walked away. Then, just as she reached the kitchen archway –

“My wife died. What am I supposed to say?”

April’s next breath drained from her mouth. “I’m your wife, Matthew. You’re blinded by grief, not blind.”

Matthew’s head was in his hands, his voice muffled. “I lost Karin, and you saved me, April. You saved me. You know that.”

“Well, it sure doesn’t feel like it.” She snapped.

Every time they fought, April would end up sleeping in a half-empty queen size bed. She woke with a jolt when she felt a cold arm drape across her stomach. They didn’t apologize. They were long past that. They locked eyes and April grazed his cheek with the back of her hand.

“We’ll get through this together. We know each other’s pain, remember?”

“I know.” He pulled her into his chest and hummed against her lips.

That night, in spite of everything, they slept peacefully in each other’s arms.

Read the full story on AO3