For @whumptober2021 day 13, prompt “this is gonna suck”, featuring Henry Fitzgerald and Elisheva Garcia. Occurs in the aftermath of Henry and Kieran’s car crash in, Accident, which appeared in Whumptober 2020. Enjoy!
warnings | hospital stay, stitches, panic, medical fear
~*~*~
“Can’t they just, I dunno... ? Glue it shut?” Henry squeaked, shrinking back against his chair. He cradled his injured arm against his stomach. His skin crawling was worse than the pulsing pain of the gash.
A shard of the broken car window had sliced up his arm. He hadn’t noticed the blood until Kieran’s concussion evaluation. The attending nurse had noticed the drying blood between his fingers and insisted on investigating. Henry, too stunned and dazed to resist, had let her.
Elisheva rubbed between his shoulder blades. She wasn’t as comforting as he wanted -- not as tender and touchy-feely as June would have been -- but Henry was glad someone was there. Kieran was in and out, same with the hospital staff coming in and out to check on him. Henry had expected her to be next to Kieran, her husband, who was worse off and more worth fussing over than him, the interloping kid sibling.
Her fingers were light over his tee shirt, tracing hypnotizing curls before sliding up to scratch at the back of his neck. The constancy, the traceable back and forth and back and forth… it was the only thing keeping Henry’s panic from sky rocketing. It had been standing at a low boil for a while now. He suspected Elisheva knew exactly how much she was keeping him from losing his whole cool; keeping him from flying off the handle, spinning out like a top too close to the edge of a table.
“It’s not that bad a cut right?” he muttered. He prodded at the gaping, sensitive edges and winced. “It doesn’t need stitches, right? That’s a bit much. Unnecessary--.”
“It looks pretty bad to me, Henry,” Elisheva said patiently. Her eyes -- the very same clear-cut green as her brother’s -- trailed down to the exposed wound. “I know you’re scared but they know what they’re doing. And I’m going to be right here.”
Henry grumbled. “I don’t -... Never mind.”
“I’m not so easily offended. What is it?”
“I don’t want to be here anymore. I can’t sit in here anymore,” Henry answered quietly, a rush of words and syllables racing one another to the end. “I hate being here. I hate this, I fucking I hate this. I want to be in the car, I--.”
“Henry.”
“What?” he snapped without meaning to.
“What are you afraid of?” Elisheva asked. Her voice was even and no-nonsense; neither soothing nor comforting. It was the same she used on the phone while working through that defamation settlement over that movie. Pure lawyer; meant to find the core of the problem and its solution as efficiently as possible.
His whole body sang with the need to run and hide. The sounds of the hospital around them sent anxiety itching just under his skin, making him want to scratch until he tore through it. His spine wiggled in ways it wasn’t supposed to. Bile stung in his throat. Kieran’s bandages and bruises, the smell of antiseptic, even the creak of the plastic chair under his weight, made him shiver.
Henry dug his teeth hard into his lower lip. He didn’t even know where to begin.
Sitting there, under her green eyes, Henry hesitated. The words were sitting, right behind his teeth. He didn’t want to admit this thing, even though it really was common knowledge. Henry had a full-blown case of white-coat syndrome. Anything medical petrified him. June had coddled him, using her connections to get a doctor -- Kieran’s adoptive mother, no less -- to agree to make house calls, and she still had to sit by, soothing him like a spooked horse.
Elisheva was a formidable presence but she wasn’t June. No matter how well they knew one another, how much they got on, Henry couldn’t stomach the idea of being weak in front of her.
But his brain chose to betray him. He found the words leaving his mouth without an ounce of hesitation. His cheeks flushed hot with embarrassment when he realized.
“I’m scared of needles, okay? Needles and doctors and all this --,” He waved his free hand in the air in front of him. “And I’ve been sitting here forever with all it sitting right here,” he jammed two fingers into his throat right above his Adam’s apple. “And you can’t know how many times I’ve been so close to just screaming my head off since I got here, Elisheva, you really don’t.”
Elisheva’s hand leaves his shoulders, drifting around to cup his jaw. Her thumb swipes along his cheek in the same soothing back and forth pattern as before. Without thinking, Henry leans into her palm, soaking in its pressure. Whether it was a vestige of training or the instinctual need for comfort, Henry didn’t know. It didn’t matter. What mattered was the dry warmth on his cheek, the subtle tug of comfort in his stomach, the kind tilt in her expression.
Henry kicked himself. She was a mother; he’d seen her comfort her daughters, how she scooped them up and wiped away their distress. He should have trusted her to do the same for him.
“Henry?”
“Yeah?”
“It’s going to be okay.”
Henry nodded once, surprised that he even believed her. He had agreed to this visit because he trusted Kieran and because he trusted her implicitly as Caleb’s sister. There was always enough separation between them that Henry justified himself in maintaining it. Close but not too close. Friendly but not invested. He wondered now why he did that. Sitting there, he trusted Elisheva completely and as herself. Not because she was related to someone he did; not because she was technically his half-sister-in-law. But because she was sitting right in the next chair over, doing her best to wipe away the pain and make it clear that she wasn’t going anywhere.
Her fingers grazed his forehead, twisted the sweaty dark waves away from his face. Henry slid closer, allowing her to guide his head to her shoulder and wrap soft arms around him. She smelled like nectarines and salt, jasmine and clean skin. It blocked out the sense of the hospital around them. She hummed lightly, drowning out the sound of voices and machines and rattling curtains. Fingers still light and twirling in his hair, tracing shapes on the back of his neck, being careful to avoid his bruises and cuts.
Henry’s heart slowed -- still fast but not as painful. He let his eyes flutter close. Henry knew why Kieran loved her just then. He understood why they worked well together despite Kieran’s being a consistent nervous wreck. She didn’t have to say anything. He didn’t have to either. She was solid, enveloping warm; a safe, quiet place to throw all his anxiety and never look at it again.
Elisheva’s hands come to rest on the back of his head, tilting his face up for him to look at her. Gentle and soft, steady and patient. “It’s going to be okay. I’m right here, for you. I’m not going anywhere.”
Henry let out a shuddering, watery breath. “I know.”
“I’m glad. I know this is scary, but you’re not alone.” Elisheva smiled at him, running a thumb over his cheekbone. “I’ve got you, sheifale.”
“Your mom calls me that,” Henry said weakly.
“Mhmm, when you’re not around too. Do you know what it means?”
“Lamb, right?”
Elisheva nodded. “Exactly. I don’t know where she pulled it from, but it suits you.” She leaned away, reaching for his injured arm and weighing it in her hands. She might have been inspecting the gash, the torn skin that made him queasy to look at, but then suddenly turned it away in favor of looking him in the eye again. She didn’t say anything, only looked.
When she ran her fingers up the side of his face, Henry felt his mouth tug into a grin. “Do I, um, get a treat if I’m good?”
Elisheva watched him for a minute, the same careful inspection she had given him minutes earlier. “If you’re good?”
Realization smacked him over the head. “Oh. No. Not if I’m good, no, I meant like-.” He cut himself off, cheeks flushing hot. “This is gonna suck and it was a joke and I-.”
“I don’t have lollipops,” Elisheva interrupted, smooth and warm. A faint glimmer of humor in her green eyes. “But I do have fruit snacks in my bag.”
“That works.”
“Maybe we can snag some late night pizza down the street too.”
Hello, dear! You've been visited by the random character question fairy! :D ~☆
How would your character describe their family? How 'conventional' was their childhood? Did they have a good childhood, in their opinion?
Oh, I love this one! I'm going to answer it for Caleb Garcia.
Caleb would describe his family -- his whole extended family -- as large, close, and (occasionally) too loud. They are very close, but understand one another's boundaries quiet well, and he loves them very much. He wouldn't have decided to spend his career in the family business, the Mar Y Cielo bar, if he didn't feel that way.
If you asked him, Caleb would say his childhood was conventional. He and his sister, Elisheva, went to school, had playdates and friends, liked their parents, liked visiting family. Everything about it was pretty standard from his view. Eli would likely say differently, but in good ways -- how many people in her class could say they got to visiting their grandparents in Oaxaca or celebrate Hanukkah in Veracruz? All in all, the Garcia kids had a good childhood, no bones about it.
That seems like a boring answer. I feel like its really easy to answer these questions with the most traumatized character you've got, but I really wanted to pick one of my most stable characters.
For @whumpmasinjuly today, I thought I’d post some Kieran and Eli. Y’all haven’t really met them yet, but they’re the whole reason I’m even writing Henry now. If I hadn’t started writing them, none of the rest of this would have ever been written. So I figured I’d give them their due today. For reference, Eli (short for Elisheva) is Caleb’s younger sister and Kieran is Felix’s older adopted brother. He’s the “brother in law” that Caleb thinks Henry looks like
Anyway, I hope you’ll let me know how you like them and enjoy!
cw: this scene takes place in the aftermath of a long therapy session for Kieran. So, situation warning for emotional exhaustion, therapy, denial, and self-deprication.
~*~*~*~*~*~
Kieran kept his distance from Eli as they walked to the car. His throat and jaw hurt from talking. Hawkins let him go a whole half-hour over his time because Kieran was on a roll and his next appointment had cancelled. Relief clouded Kieran’s mind leaving him unsure of the amount of deep dark secrets that had spilled out of his mouth. He reached the hospital parking lot, still clear as day after four years, and his brain relieved his consciousness of all responsibility. All he knew is that he had talked enough. More than enough.
“Kieran, wait a minute.” He felt Eli’s hand wrap around his wrist and he stopped in his tracks. “Let me drive. You’ve got to be exhausted.”
He weighed his car keys in his hand before holding them out to her. “Thank you.”
“No problem,” Eli shrugged, walking to the driver’s side of the beat-up red sedan.
Kieran dropped into the passenger’s seat, leaning forward to rest his head against the glove compartment. Eli was struggling to pull the seat forward, being almost a whole foot shorter than him. It would have been more than funny if they weren’t walking out of a very long therapy appointment. Kieran closed his eyes, feeling sadness well up in his chest and throat.
Damn it.
He’d made it all the way through an hour and a half of nasty truth-telling sober and steady as a judge, only to break down completely in the car with Eli watching. He fought it, praying that it would subside long enough for him to get back to his apartment. He clutched at his forearms, ground his back teeth together, ignoring the new wave of embarrassment washing over his body.
“Kieran?” Eli’s hand settled between his shoulder blades, rubbing small circles.
“Eli. Stop. Please.” He gritted out. He sat up, trying to show her he was fine. He was alright. They could do this, they could talk about hard things and be rational. He wasn’t going to push it all away just to keep it together for a third of the time. He sniffed and looked at her. “I’m fine. See? I’m fine.”
Eli stared at him, concern glazing her features. She moved her hand to Kieran’s shoulder and squeezed lightly. “Say it once more with conviction.”
“I-I’m… I’m fine.” Kieran’s voice wavered just enough for dread to spike through him. The voice in his head told him to try again, that a second time would do the trick. “Eli, I’m —”
“Kieran, you just spent an hour describing in detail wha — ”
“I know, I know, I know.” Kieran cut her off, knowing what a bad idea that was. He compensated by leaning his forehead to her’s. “I just don’t want to lose it in front of you. I’ve gotten this far today and it’s not any easier knowing that you know all of that now. I just, I just.”
Eli wrapped her arms around Kieran’s shoulders, his head coming to rest at the crook of her neck. Her fingers came up to thread through his hair. He hadn’t been this close to her in weeks. It felt like tempting fate. His eyes covered by her dark hair, his hands resting on the small of her back. Close enough to smell the orange and rose in her perfume, lingering detergent on her shirt, feel her steady breathing.
Every part of his brain screamed at him too close, too close. Too goddamned close, you idiot. Let her go, say you’re alright, and get the fuck home. Get yourself together.
But Kieran was exhausted, and Eli radiated warmth. Felt like home. So he gave up, letting the tears leak out on to his cheeks and down. Pressed against her small body, cradled like a toddler to her shoulder, too tired to acknowledge the growing sense of danger. His hands were on her. He was weak, crying. It could all go south in a minute, just like before, no matter how safe he felt right then. He handed over his fear for a moment and let himself be swallowed up in the feeble belief that Eli had loved him, maybe still did. It took more than a few seconds for him to realize she was talking.
“… let it go, Kieran. You’ve got to let it all go. That’s why you’re here.” Her voice was low, gentle. The same voice she used putting Rosie down for a nap. “You’ve got a lot of work to do, but you’re doing so well. You have to give yourself a break. This is hard stuff. You need to be gentle on yourself, cielo. Don’t put up a front for my sake. Please.”
Kieran sniffed, sagging under the weight of emotional exhaustion. “No?”
“No.”
“Okay, I won’t. Could I sleep while you drive? It’s not a long way, but I’m feeling it now.”
Eli pulled back, resting her hands on his face. She was smiling before she kissed his forehead. “Take your glasses off and sleep. I’ll wake you up when we get back.”
A stunningly beautiful portrait of my OC, Elisheva Golde Garcia by @saliechelon255.
Elisheva -- who goes by “Eli” -- describes herself as “Jewish Tehuana” to encompass both of her parents’ ancestry. Here she is wearing a traditional huipl, worn by the Tehuana women of Oaxaca, Mexico (where her father’s family is from). It’s also referred to as the traje de Tehuana.
You might recognize the huipl and resplendor from artist Frida Kahlo’s self-portraiture, where she is often depicted herself in the garments. National Geographic also did an incredible photo-story about the traditional garments of the Tehuana some years ago. While the article is now “members only” content, the photographer Diego Huerta has all of the Inside Oaxaca photographs available to view on his website.
Elisheva does in fact own a huipl and the accompanying resplendor headdress; she considers it her most prized possession. In the novel, Felix Cochran requests to paint Elisheva -- as well as her young niece, Rosie -- as part of a last minute art project. He asks her to wear her favorite outfit, requesting something colorful and dynamic but not imagining this. You can read about him working on Rosie’s portrait in this excerpt.
I hope y’all don’t mind, but I’m going to just keep posting chapters of Hallford, my original novel. Most of the stuff I’m writing for Henry is, unfortunately, falling under the category of “Whumptober Prompts” and I don’t want to jump the gun by posting early. They will be worth the wait, y’all, I swear. So, you get to put up with Kieran and Eli and Felix and Harry for just a little bit longer. So, thank you for reading!
[Hallford does have a tag list -- let me know if you want added!]
cw: No CWs. Just Felix being the little brother he tries hard to be.
~*~*~
Felix wouldn’t have called his brother an optimist. Or giddy. He was happy enough, but Kieran took himself way too seriously. A lot of things weighed on his brother, mostly about his academics and family things and his intense perfection. Four years younger and far more free-spirited, Felix took it upon himself to force Kieran to have fun. To have have a drink or two. Unearth himself from Ancient Egypt and India and Persia for a few minutes.
He’d be lying if he said he hadn’t been waiting for Thursday to come and go. Eli Garcia had become his favorite bartender since Thanksgiving. She’d scared the shit out of him the night she swiped his fake I.D. but he’d made it his year-end goal to get back in her good graces. It had been easier than he’d expected. He followed her rules, complimented her oy-vey earrings. He’d brought her a little gift before leaving for Christmas break - a pair of vintage cat-eye sunglasses he’d decorated in his painting class — and she’d added a bit of rum into his Coca-cola that night.
Just that once, though.
Just because she’d really loved the sunglasses.
She made a kick-ass margarita, or so he’d heard. She could quote Steel Magnolias backwards and mostly in Spanish. He had watched her effortlessly flirt her way into a twenty dollar tip and could make any casual frat boy fearful for the preservation of his manhood.
In short, Felix liked her a lot. A whole lot.
She wasn’t actually scary. Not when compared to some of the brothers’ actual aunts and cousins. Not when compared to her older brother, Caleb, who also tended bar and was far less forgiving. Felix had just decided to lay it on extraordinarily thick Tuesday night, just to fuck with Kieran’s head. He had a reputation as a younger brother to uphold.
She just might be the only person who could pull the rug out from under Kieran. Lighten him up a bit.
Kieran could be easily intimidated when presented with potential confrontation, people-pleaser as he was. Felix was hoping to ingratiate them — well, himself — to the Garcia siblings even more than he had managed all on his own. He was expecting Kieran to come back home, sufficiently relaxed and maybe a bit more pliable to going out for a drink this weekend. He wasn’t expecting him to walk in the door with a stupid grin plastered to his face. Felix wasn’t expecting that at all.
“Good day?” He called from the sofa, watching Kieran in the kitchen.
“It was alright.”
“Clearly. You’re not dead yet.” Felix smirked at the TV. “How’d you convince her to take pity on you?”
Kieran emerged from the kitchen in a flurry — coat thrown onto a chair, book bag dropped unceremoniously on the floor, ruffling the cold out of his hair — and disappeared towards his bedroom, talking as he went. “Funny thing is, Felix, she was super nice. But maybe she didn’t want to get blood all over her niece by taking my head off then and there.”
He strode back into the room, a beat up laptop and a now-open beer in his hand. He dropped into the chair, getting to work on whatever. Felix didn’t really know and never asked, and Kieran didn’t volunteer anything without good reason.
“I think she’s playing the long con on you.” Felix mused.
“No, I think you lied.” Kieran gave Felix a sharp look as he took a drink.
Felix turned fully away from the television. “So what are you so happy about and why didn’t you get me a beer?”
“For one thing, I didn’t die. Second, you have legs. Get it yourself.” Kieran popped open his laptop and began flipping through a book.
Felix heaved himself up off the couch and padded toward the kitchen. He stopped at the fridge, face-to-face with a coloring book sheet. It was a bunch of flowers with a bird nested in the middle done in a wild rainbow that didn’t quite stay in the lines. Scrawled across the top in bright purple was his brother’s name in childlike all-capital letters.
Felix grabbed a bottle and the opener, swiping the page from its magnet on his way back to the living room. Leaning over the back of his brother’s chair, he held out the sheet in front of Kieran’s face like a carrot on a stick.
“What’s this, Kier?” Felix waved the page.
“A gift.” Kieran looked back at him. “Eli’s niece did it during class and was very insistent I take it. I told her I’d bring it home and hang it up. I’m just following through.”
“So a toddler is in love with you enough to give you her drawing, and you took it to get back in her aunt’s good graces and maybe panties. Did I get that right?”
Kieran smacked him without looking up from his textbook page. “Go put it back, would you?”
“Fine, but you know that out of context this all sounds super suspicious?” Felix called, wandering back to the kitchen. “Your name is spelled wrong too. Did’ja notice that?”
He heard his brother let out an exasperated sigh. “Don’t fucking start, Felix.”
“I’m not starting shit, Kier. I’m just glad you’ve finally made a friend.” And Felix genuinely was.
Hi all! I feel like I’ve posted more than usual this week, but I had the itching need to throw this one up her. @burtlederp was so kind to remind me that I have a whole cache of shorts about Eli and Kieran way in the future -- as working adults, married, and parents. They’re kind of self-satisfying mush; me writing characters I love with happy endings, doing the things they love and living their best lives.
(Disclaimer: I know next to nothing about how Egyptology in the modern world works, so I kind of guessed based on National Geographic articles. If you have sources or actual intel, please tell me. I’d love to know so I get it right!)
So, this is that. Kieran, getting to have his dream job, and doing something hair-brained for his wife and daughters. Enjoy!
Kieran loved coming home, even if it meant leaving his beloved Egypt. The sand, the pyramids, the tomb art, the sun his skin was not meant for. He'd give it all up to see his girls.
It had been just over two months, the dig season now over, and Eli was (understandably) getting restless. He didn't blame her -- she was almost six months pregnant and contending with their two year old daughter, Sylvia, solo. She was at her wit’s end, based on their last three phone calls, all taken in Heathrow Airport.
Kieran couldn’t wait to take that all off her hands. He had booked a flight that would land him at their Philadelphia doorstep early in the morning. He'd let his jet-lag adjust backward and let his wife rest. He was just one taxi-ride from them.
Kieran grinned to himself, watching buildings go by. He had something he was itching to show Eli -- truly, his skin itched. The reckless tattoo he had gotten finished during his layover in London a day and a half earlier. Kieran hadn’t a clue how she would react but he didn’t care. It was special to him, and he was sure she wouldn’t have been able to change his mind before hand even if she tried.
That certainty was a new feeling. It had become more comfortable in his limbs over the years, but he still marveled at its ease, its newness. The first time he had felt it was Sylvia’s first night home from the hospital. Eli was dead to the world, had only sniffed and rolled her shoulders when Sylvia started wailing. Kieran hadn’t known what he was doing. He was barely 26 and sleep had hazed the memories of the nurse’s instructions, How to hold his arms to keep her little head and neck upright, if it was safe to bounce her a little, how to change anything.
But Slyvia has been fine. Had drifted off as easily as she had woken up. Kieran had leaned at her crib’s railing, staring at his hands and wondering at their capability. Wondering when they hadn’t become things he feared.
Sylvia had inspired the tattoo, initially. He mother and soon-to-arrive sibling added to the finished product. His back itched, but he couldn’t have been more excited.
Eli was sitting at the kitchen table with Sylvia when he walked through the door. Her black hair, still long from their wedding eight months ago, was braided to one side. She was wrapped in one of his left-behind sweatshirts, a hand resting on her stomach. Larger than when he had left and, just like with Sylvia, looking out of place on her small frame.
“Back so soon, cielo?” She smiled, exhaustion tinging her features. Her green eyes ran right through him, and Kieran barely remembered to shut the door before surging forward.
“Never soon enough,” Kieran said, dropping to his knees and hugging her fiercely. “Hello, Elisheva.”
He feels her relax into him, a small kiss pressed to the top of his head. “Hello, Kieran James.” She pushes him back by his shoulders to look him in the eye. “I’m glad you’re home.”
“Glad to be home, love. So, glad to be home,” He stands and pulls out the chair on the other side of Sylvia. “Morning, Sylvie. What’ve you got there?”
The little girl grinned. “Stwaberry.”
“I see. Are they good?”
She nods and drops her hands to the berries on her plate. Eli rolls her eyes and keeps the two year old from smushing them too much.
“Okay. That’s enough of that,” Eli says softly, wiping Slyvia’s hands and pulling the plate away. “Come on, Sylvie. Let’s go play.”
“Hey, Eli, let me--,” Kieran began.
His wife waves him off. “I’m fine. Go take a shower or something.”
Kieran gently pushes her back to sitting and lifts Sylvia out of her chair. “But, I. I want to show you something.”
Elia stares at him, watches their daughter toddle off to her toys. “Then come sit on the couch and show me.”
Kieran was immediately at her side, helping her up. Last time around, mornings had been the worst -- everything ached and hurt, her balance a little off. She tried to push him off, saying she was just fine and it was no big deal, but Kieran wasn't only trying to help. He had missed touching her. One the couch, he bundles her in close, kissing her hair and watching Sylvia play.
“I missed you,” Kieran whispers, soaking up her familiar warmth. “I missed you so much, Elisheva.”
“Then don’t go away so often, Kier,” Eli smirks, squeezing his hand. “Now, you said you wanted to show me something. Should I be worried?”
Kieran laughs lightly. “No, not any all. Just. Let me shift around here.”
Eli leans back into the couch cushions, hands resting on her belly, as Kieran leans forward and pulls off his tee shirt. Eli gasps, and Kieran feels her hands trail over the skin of his back. Soft fingers pausing over his shoulders, over kneeling winged Isis; trailing a straight line down the column of his spine, counting the three white lotus flowers there. He starts explaining as her fingers pause over each section.
“So, um, that top bit, across the shoulders. That’s how Isis appears in the Book of the Dead, for protection. And, each of those flowers are for you and Slyvia and the baby.” Kieran tries very hard to keep the mixed anxiety and excitement out of his voice. “They’re lotuses -- water lilies actually -- but they were sacred, meant a whole bunch of things. Especially the white ones.”
“Kieran, I... I don’t know what to say,” Eli whispers, her hand sliding up to rest flat against his shoulder blade. “It’s beautiful. Really, but... Why?”
Kieran grins. “Because I wanted to. You three are the most important things I have. And if I have to leave, I want you with me, in some way... This seemed better than a photograph. I can’t, you know, -lose- this.”
Eli is silent for a long time, fingers mapping the tattoos the way they often mapped his freckles. The clatter of Slyvia tossing blocks into the air breaks her focus. He feels her lean forward, grabbing his hand as her cheeks presses into his back.
“Eli?”
“Shhh, cielo... I love it. I’m glad you kept it a surprise or I might have talked you out of it.” She leans away, one hand still warm and small on his. He turned to look her square in the face. She’s exhausted, the dark circles under her eyes more prominent. Her smile falters for a moment.
Kieran raises an eyebrow.
“Just a kick,” She swallows, squeezes his hand at another one. “It’s another girl, but the way.”
“I thought you said you were going to wait until I got home to find out?”
Eli shrugs. “I said I wasn’t going to get pregnant again for four years. Things change.”
“I asked an’ mommy let me go with her!” Slyvia pipes up, pushing over another block tower.
Kieran turns back to Eli, a smile on his face. “You told our toddler but not me?”
“Well, you know now.” Eli winks. “Go get a shower. You smell like the airport. Then we can talk about what to name that last flower on your back.”
Remember that schedule I posted on Sunday? Well, in true me-fashion, I have not exactly stuck to it. But this is my vague attempt to. Enjoy a sometimes cute, kind of nervous, kind fluffy piece featuring Kieran and Eli after they’ve graduated from college and moved away.
It’s cute guys, I promise. Enjoy!
Kieran woke up to Eli getting sick. She had sat bolt upright, leapt out of bed, and ran to the bathroom. She had gone to bed early with a migraine, and Kieran had stayed out of their bedroom long enough for her to be safely asleep. He’d never seen his girlfriend ill. He roused himself at her first gag, forced himself to standing as she coughed and gagged into the toilet. He caught 3 am on the microwave clock as he shuffled into the bathroom.
“Eli? Are you alright?” He mumbled, still sleepy.
“No.” She heaved, throwing up again.
Kieran rubbed his eyes an set about gathering things - a wash cloth, a bottle of ibuprofen, and a glass of water. He placed the wash cloth, dampened in the sink, on the back of her neck and placed the other two items on the edge of the bathtub. He sunk to the tiled floor behind her, rubbing a hand up and down her back. She was slumped over, head pressed to the seat, her shoulders slick with sweat. She swatted his hand away.
“Go back to bed.” She rasped, then coughed.
Kieran leaned back against the bathroom wall. “Nope.”
“Go to b-” She was cut off by another wave of illness.
“I’ll fall asleep sitting here, thanks.” Kieran said sleepily. “I’m gonna call into work too. Take care of you tomorrow.”
Eli shifted a little, settling into a more comfortable position. Her head lolled to the side, her forehead a sickly shade of pale. Kieran slid forward, massaging her shoulders, and placing the water glass with in her grasp.
“Want me to get anything for you?” Kieran leaned his head between her shoulder blades, rubbing her sides. “Pillow? Blanket?”
“Blanket, please. Thanks.”
‘Back in sec, hamsaram.”
Kieran had managed to convince Eli to let him bring her back to bed at around six, took her temperature at seven and walked away to phone his boss thoroughly confused. She wasn’t running a temperature, but she was sicker than he’d ever seen her. She was asleep from eight until nearly one. She woke up starving, but couldn’t hardly keep crackers or water down.
Kieran left her for the drug store with her cellphone and the trash can nearby. He told her it was for Pedialyte and some things she might be able to keep down, but that wasn’t the whole truth. The lack of fever grated on him, made him anxious all morning to the point of distraction.
Eli couldn’t be pregnant — rather, he didn’t know what he would do if she was. They weren’t so young and had jobs to make rent every month, but anything more than that was a stretch. He was planning on asking her to marry him, but not until she had graduated. What if he had to speed that timeline up? Did he have to? He grabbed a pregnancy test last second, drawing a look from the cashier but too in his head to truly care.
When he walked back into their bedroom, Eli was sitting upright. Her school bag had been pulled over, her laptop open and papers spread on the comforter. She was still pale and clammy-looking, but more alert than she’d been earlier.
“What’s all that?” She asked as he entered.
“Take a look,” Kieran dropped the bag on her lap, perching on his side of the bed.
She found the test first. “Kieran, what’s this?”
“Just humor me, Eli. I mean, you’re sick but you aren’t totally sick.” Kieran blurted out. “I know its stupid, but I just grabbed it.”
She looked slightly exasperated, closing her computer with a sharp click and pinching the bridge of her nose. She held out a hand to him, which he took. Worry pushed at the edge of his thoughts, but kept his mouth shut.
“Kier, I um… I don’t need the test.” Eli moved to fully cover her eyes with one hand. “I’ve known for a week now.”
Kieran’s breath stopped in his lungs, his jaw slackening. “Are you..? Eli, you wouldn’t joke about this would you?”
She inhaled deeply, then looked dead at him. Her expression was untraceable. “I’m three months along, Kieran. Everything’s been so busy I didn’t notice until last week.”
Kieran could only stare until Eli looked about ready to slap him. He finally let his tongue take over for his brain. “We… We’re going to have a baby?”
“Unless that’s not what we want, then yes.”
Kieran surged forward, pulling her into a full body kiss. He wasn’t wholly surprised when Eli didn’t kiss back — she didn’t look entirely enthused. She hadn’t been when they had woken up on New Year’s Day and had shrugged off the possibility that they could have forgotten.
“Eli, I-I want that. If you don’t then, that’s that.” Kieran rambled. “Don’t do it on my account, though.”
Eli slumped back against the pillows, suddenly looking nauseous again. “I never thought I’d be thinking about this right now. You know?”
Kieran took her hand. “I didn’t either, but I love you. And if you want to, I think we can do this. I mean, you’re already so good with Rosie and Gabriel. We could do this.”
“You want to feel it?”
“Feel what?”
“The bump.”
“You already have one?”
“Three months, Kieran, and a late three months at that. Come here.”
Eli shimmied to lay down, moving his hand to her lower abdomen. Between her hip bones was a little rise, just enough to be noticeable when she laid flat. A little piece of both of them, just under the surface, growing. Kieran felt his heart squeeze tightly, something overwhelming flooding him. If he wasn’t sure before, he was now. It was sappy, kind of stupid, and cliche, but it was their baby.
Eli kept talking. “It would be more obvious at graduation. Almost six months by then. And we’d have to tell everyone before hand, so we could get the shock and disappointment out of the way.”
“Disappointment?” Kieran’s hand stilled. Eli had closed her eyes, close to tears. “Is that what you’re worried about?”
A watery inhale. “Yes.”
Kieran slid down to lay next to her, resting an arm across her stomach. She was sniffling, trying not to cry more. “Elisheva, do you want a baby?”
“Uh-huh.”
“And you feel bad about that?” Kieran felt her nod in response. “Elisheva, be selfish. You’re a lawyer. I think you could argue any one under the table if they disagree with your choices… Marry me.”
Eli turned to stare at him, blank but sad. “Bad timing, Kieran.”
“I know it is, but I was going to ask you by your birthday. Which, um, was weeks ago. One sec.” He placed a kiss on her cheek, then disappeared out into the kitchen.
He’d bought a ring not long after they moved to Philadelphia, just to prove to himself that he was committed to this next adventure. It wasn’t special by any means — a slim gold band inlaid with garnets and a single diamond perched in the center. He’d hidden it in the back of the silverware drawer in a box of plastic knives they’s bought their first night in town and never used again. Kieran stood in the kitchen for a few minutes, holding the box.
“Kieran?” Eli padded into the living room, bundled in a cardigan and blanket. Her hair was a mess, eyes red rimmed from her tears. “Kieran, you don’t have to do this.”
“No no.” He walked over to her, taking her hand. “I want you always. Marry me.”
He handed her the box, knowing she’d want to inspect what was inside it. She held it, but didn’t open it. She handed it back to him. “Is something wrong?”
“I don’t want a shotgun proposal. This feels convenient, which isn’t us,” Eli said softly. “The answer is yes, but ask me another day. Just so I don’t feel like you’re trying to fix something… I’m sorry.”
Kieran shook his head, pushing down the sadness in his chest. He dropped the box into his jacket pocket. “Don’t be. That makes sense, Eli. I’ll get you next week, okay?”
“Sure.”
*
“Wait, what?” Felix’s voice crackled on the end of the line. The underground art rooms got the worst reception and now was not the time for a dropped call. “Say that again.”
“Eli’s pregnant. We’re going to have a baby.” Kieran said it slower, but not louder. He was in what passed as his office’s conference room.
“And she turned down the ring?”
“Not really, just told me to not make it so… I don’t know.”
“Like you’re just trying to do the right thing?”
“Exactly,” Kieran leaned against the wall, cell phone pressed to his face. “It needs to be special. I need to surprise her. Got any ideas?”
Felix went quiet on the other end. “First, congratulations, Kier. I believe in both of you. Second, I’ve got no idea how to propose to your girlfriend. Why are you asking me?”
“Thanks, Felix. Super helpful.”
“I’m serious, Kieran. If you don’t know what she wants from you for this one thing, then she’s right in turning it down,” Felix said. “You probably already know what she wants, but are convinced you’re gonna screw it up.”
Kieran hated telling Felix he was right.
*
It took Kieran two weeks to get his ducks in a row, but it was perfect. He didn’t want to pat himself on the back, but it was perfect. And Eli suspected nothing. He was sitting in the car, waiting for her to leave work for the day. Normally she would walk, but she hadn’t been sleeping well and was consistently exhausted from her body’s adjusting to no more coffee. So, he’d been picking her up at the end of her days. He’d given Felix the ring box when he’d gotten in off the train that morning.
“Hi, cielo.” Eli grinned, dropping into the passenger seat and leaning in for a kiss.
“Hi there.” Kieran felt the anxiety he’d been keeping down spring back to life. He was really going to do this. “Ready?”
“Yeah, I could really use a night on the couch.”
“Well, I hate to disappoint, but we have plans elsewhere.”
Eli stared at him. “Kier, what’s going on?”
He put the old car into drive and pulled out. “Nothing crazy, Eli. I just thought we could use a nice night out, considering everything that’s about to change.”
“Oh,” Eli sat back in the seat. “Where are we going?”
“Do you remember that restaurant that looks like a greenhouse?”
“Where the Historical Society had its party in December?”
“That’s the one.”
“Kieran, that’s too much!”
“Shush, it’s fine. I got it sorted out with someone at work. I’ve been sitting on a favor for almost a year, and this was worth it.” Kieran placed a hand on her shoulder, rubbing circles. “Just one fun night, love. Then you can make me pay for it forever, okay?”
Eli exhaled, resigned since she was in the car and not driving. “Fine. Okay, fine.”
The hostess led them towards the back of the restaurant and Kieran felt his blood pressure spike. Eli was clueless. He felt like he was going to faint.
“There you are!” Felix appeared first, wrapping his brother in a hug where he dropped the box into Kieran’s hand. “We’ve been waiting forever.”
“Traffic here sucks, what can I say?”
Eli had stopped dead in her tracks. “Felix? What are you doing here?”
Felix stepped forward to wrap the woman in a tight hug. “Good to see you too, La.”
“Same, but you didn’t answer my question.”
“Come on then.” Felix took her hand and led her to the semi-secluded table.
He had to hold Eli up as her legs went weak in surprise. Kieran had invited their families — parents, siblings, children, boyfriends — and they’d showed up with bells on. Eli’s mother had attacked him in excitement that afternoon, twitterpated over the news that her only daughter was going to get married. Rosie had been very insistent on seeing the ring and getting his opinion on her party dress. His and Eli’s fathers had been congratulatory and overflowing with advice when they weren’t catching up with one another. Kieran hung back, summoning the nerve.
“What in the hell are you all doing here?” Eli squeaked, shoes stuck to the floor.
“To surprise you, carino.” Angel Garcia stood towards the back, a glass of wine in his hand. He made a brief but meaningful eye contact with Kieran before taking a long drink.
Kieran felt out of his body, pulling the box out and opening it. He placed a hand on Eli’s shoulder, dropping to his knee as she was turning to face him. He was distinctly aware of how silent the restaurant had gone behind him.
“Kier..?” Eli had gone still, pale as if she had seen a ghost.
He exhaled, taking her hand. “Elisheva Garcia. You are my constant. My equal. My reminder to be better than I am. I love you. Will you marry me? Will you be my wife?”
Her hand shook and her breathing gone shallow. She was floored, shocked, looked ready to collapse. After a second she cracked a starstruck smile and nodded.
“Yes.”
Kieran could barely hear the applause over the relief washing over him. He slipped the ring on to her finger, gathering her up in his arms and kissing her fiercely. “Finally.”
“Do they know?” She whispered in his ear.
“Only Felix,” Kieran answered, pressing his forehead to her’s. “Do you want to tell them?”
“Better in person than over the phone.” Eli grinned, the confidence Kieran knew so well returned to her face. She pressed one more kiss to his lips, then turned to the table, walking closer and picking up a water glass. “One more thing, everyone.”
“There’s more?” Caleb laughed from his seat, Rosie squirming on his lap.
“There always is, Cale.” Eli took a drink. Kieran stepped up next to her, placing a hand around her waist. “Since you all are already here, I guess now is the best time to tell you. We’re going to have a baby in August.”
“What!”
“A baby?”
“You’re pregnant?!”
Eli just laughed as a new wave of surprised broke over the table, letting Kieran take over.
“We just found out, she’s four months.” Kieran grinned. “Graduation first, then baby, then wedding. In that order.”
