Marc Russo (bluelined) wrote in remains_rpg, @ 2017-04-24 20:18:00 |
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Entry tags: | # past / backstory, marc russo, rebecca russo |
Who: Marc & Rebecca Russo
When: 2007, 2009, 2010, 2013, and 2016
Where: Baltimore, MD
What: A first meeting, an engagement, a decision, some tension, and a stalemate the night before the zombies come.
2007: The coffee on campus was atrocious in every sense, but Rebecca had been running behind that morning, so by the time she’d put herself together there was no hope of a Starbucks stop before her first class. A pity, but she’d never been late before, and she was sensible enough to make do with what was available within the constraints of her timetable. Only she hadn’t expected to run into anyone she knew at the coffee kiosk, so she was a bit surprised when she recognized Marc Russo. Even though she’d been very good about compartmentalizing her crush, and it helped that she’d heard he was seeing someone, she hadn’t quite mastered the flutter in her chest when she saw him. “Bonjour Marc,” she greeted after she’d made sure she wasn’t interrupting him. Stupidly, Rebecca was proud of herself for not checking her hair and makeup in the reflective surface. It seemed Lilah and her vanity might have been rubbing off on her though, since she’d had the thought at all. "Bonjour," he replied as he turned to face her, an obvious grin spreading across his face. The word sounded out of place in his stubbornly-American voice, nowhere near like the way she said it, but it sounded better than the first time he'd tried to mimic her during their first group project session. Marc spared a glance at the barista, checking on her progress. His cup didn't seem to be all that much further in line than it had been when he'd first stepped over to the waiting room, but he didn't mind that much now that he had company. His smile broadened as he crossed his arms over a faded BPD shirt, leaning sideways against the counter. "When's your next class, Rebecca?" “Fifteen minutes, I think.” Rebecca dug in her bag for a minute in search of her phone. Trying to find it was a good distraction from focusing on Marc’s smile. She really needed to work a little harder at getting her childish crush under control. Checking the screen, she nodded to herself. She was right, she still had fifteen minutes to get to class. “Management and Organizational Behavior,” she explained. It was one of the few approved electives for her degree program. She didn’t love the class, but she did well enough in it, and there were things that she knew could be helpful to her after graduation. “Which class do you have this morning?” "Stats." He grimaced, sure the expression didn't fully convey all the disdain he felt for his most-hated GenEd. "Just the thing I want to do first thing in the morning." Marc paused, surreptitiously taking in the way her eyes lit up her face. Their project was almost over, and with it would end the after-class meeting schedule their group had fallen into. They didn't know each other all that well, but there was something about her that made him want to change that. And just like that, once the idea was in his head there was no going back. After another check of his cup's progress down the line, he added, "You wanna… hang out some time? Maybe this weekend?" “Oh, well,” she faltered, taken aback by the suggestion, even if she couldn’t find a good reason why she was. “I have a few things I need to study for, but that would be nice, sure.” Had she sounded too eager? Thankfully Marc didn’t know her well enough to know that the way her accent thickened around the vowels was a sign of nerves. Sipping her coffee to try and recover, she told herself it was only a friendly offer, that she shouldn’t read into it. “Do you want me to check with everyone else to see if they’re free?” She didn’t want to be presumptive that that wasn’t what he’d meant. "No," he said, shrugging his shoulders with obvious ease, that smile still on his face. This was a new side to her that he hadn't seen yet, even if it was only a glimpse. It was a departure from the woman who settled little academic arguments in their group meetings with an apparent evenness that he sort of envied. He reached for his now-ready coffee and stepped a little closer, purposefully so, in order to brush his arm against her shoulder as he reached for a packet of sugar. "I think I just want it to be you and me." Rebecca ignored the goosebumps on her arm at the contact, but couldn’t hide the way her mouth quirked with a faint smile. “I wouldn’t mind that,” she replied more neutrally than she actually felt. “Is there something you were thinking of?” Hanging out covered a myriad of things to do, so she only hoped it wasn’t something that could end awkwardly - like hanging out at his apartment all night. “I like to know what to expect.” "You sure that out of the two of us, you're not the cop?" He tore the packet and emptied its contents into his coffee, his smile turning just a bit more mischievous the longer he continued to return her gaze. "I don't know if I underwent this kind of interrogation the last time I tried to ask out a woman, but I don't have anything to hide. I'm also not going to lie and say I have a whole plan worked up as far as what we'd do on this date -- assuming you're okay with it being a date, and I'm guessing that was going to be one of your next questions, Detective Chey." He made a big show of shrugging as he took a sip of his coffee, then continued on. "Maybe it's kind of cliché but I don't see anything wrong with dinner and drinks, some good old fashioned getting-to-know-you questions that have nothing to do with the group project or any other group projects that may come about should I have the good luck of having you in another one of my GenEds next semester. But I'm open to suggestions on what you'd want to do." Flummoxed, Rebecca blinked a few times. Obviously she’d read the intent of the offer all wrong, and now she was caught between her own surprise and her two options. There was one she’d like to make, and one she knew she should make, if she was going to keep the promise she’d made to herself. “Oh, I thought you were seeing someone,” she admitted. "Yeah," he admitted, unwilling to lie outright. "Not anymore, though." It would've been easier to omit that from the record, even if they'd split up over the weekend, rendering him now completely unattached, but it wasn't worth the effort. He'd never been a dishonest person anyway. “And I was worried it was going to turn out to be spending all night watching bad action movies. I didn’t mean to sound difficult.” She offered an apologetic smile, smoothing the hem of her jacket with her free hand. “I’m free Saturday.” Her resolve dissolved quickly in the face of Marc’s smile. It was only one date, and if it didn’t go well, then she could go back to her moratorium on dating. “I also like seafood.” "Me, too. Good thing we live in Baltimore." It was impossible for his grin to stretch further, he was sure, but he pushed his limits anyway. Anything to get her to smile more, too. "Costas this Saturday, then? Give me your address and I'll come over and pick you up. Then we could go out on the harbor after?" Rebecca set her coffee down to rummage in her bag for paper and a pen. She could have texted it to him, but she’d always been a little old-fashioned about things. Once she found what she was looking for she wrote her address down carefully and offered it to Marc. “I’ve never been on the harbor.” She’d ridden ferries a few times in her life, but she hardly thought that was the same. "You're kidding." Except she definitely wasn't, and Marc had to remember that not everyone spent most of their days out on the water like he did. He took the offered piece of paper and pocketed it, stepping closer to her in the process. "Okay. We're definitely doing that, then. You're gonna love it, I promise." “I’ll wear sensible shoes,” she added, trying not to take notice of the new proximity to him and the way her cheeks were starting to hurt from the way she was smiling. “So I won’t teeter off the edge of boat.” It was probably nerves that were making her say that, but she was excited and there were still days between now and then. "I'd rescue you even if it happened." There was more to add, too, the choice between saying something overly flirtatious about mouth to mouth or playing it cool with something a little less obvious, but then he caught a glance of the clock past her shoulder and his face fell. Good thing he hadn't yet settled on a follow-up. "I should let you go to your class, though." At the mention of her class, Rebecca glanced at the time and exhaled a discontented sigh. She hardly thought she’d be able to concentrate on her class, or really for the new few days. And what was she going to tell her roommate? Things to worry about later, she guessed. Turning back around she gave Marc a smaller, more regretful smile. “I’ll see you Saturday,” she said. “Au revoir, Marc.” Rebecca slipped past him to leave, turning around to wave before she hurried towards her class. She definitely wasn’t thinking about the way his cologne smelled, and she certainly wasn’t going to be the kind of woman that thought about it for the new few days. Really, she wasn’t. 2009: It was a nice habit they'd settled into, going out onto the harbor whenever they had the time and the means, and these days things were a little better now that Rebecca had taken the time to settle into her new career. Job hunting had felt like a third party in their relationship for a little while, sometimes budging against the everyday stress that came with the territory of Marc's job as a cop. Stress levels were good these days, though, and his bank balance was looking equally good, so they took a boat out onto the harbor after dinner and Marc set sail for their typical course. "You want my jacket?" he asked, his voice pitched a little louder than usual over the hum of the boat's motor. “Yes, please,” Rebecca replied, an appreciative smile directed at Marc. She usually tried to dress properly if there was even the barest hint they might end up on the water, but there was a chill in the air that she hadn’t anticipated. “My teeth are already chattering.” She laughed, but the sound was drowned out by the motor. Every time they were on the water it reminded her of the first time Marc took her out; she’d been so nervous then, so it was nice to look back and compare it to now, when all she felt was comfort. “I shouldn’t have worn this dress,” she admitted. It had been vanity that had made her choose it, because she knew she looked good in it, and she’d wanted to look nice. The more sensible dress pants she’d considered just didn’t have the same effect. "Maybe," Marc allowed, idling the motor and taking careful steps as he walked over to her. He draped his jacket across her shoulders, leaving him in his button-down and loosened tie, then pulled Rebecca in closer to him. His arms settled around her waist as his hands clasped on the small of her back, and for a brief moment, he was pretty sure this was as good as life got: out on the water with his girlfriend, a clear night sky up above them. "And I do like you in all your clothes. But I have to admit I especially like you in this dress." She shivered, but not from the cold. Marc seemed to have that kind of effect on her, even when he was saying simple things. “I know, I’ve seen you look,” she responded coyly, looking up at him through her lashes as he laughed. She had removed her heels shortly after they’d stepped onto the boat, and the deck was cool beneath her toes. “The first time you saw me in it, you reminded me of that silly cartoon fox.” Rebecca toyed idly with his tie; it wasn't anywhere near a tug, but Marc bent his knees a bit, just enough to lean his forehead against hers. “The one with the tongue. It made spending most of my grocery money purchasing it worth it.” "You like it when I look, princess," he returned easily. The deck rocked gently underneath them as the waves pulled at the boat. Not enough to make him suggest they sit yet, but just enough to notice. "It's a wonder I get anything done besides you." It was so easy for her to let her expression shift into something just a hair more self-satisfied, raising her eyebrows at him. “Mmm, yes, you have amazing self-control and discipline, mon cher,” Rebecca replied teasingly, carefully looping her arms around his neck to keep from displacing the jacket on her shoulders. “I’m wearing my red bra and panties too,” she told him, then paused, while she let her smile go impish, before she continued, “in case you were curious.” Marc dropped his head further down to kiss at her neck, muffling a frustrated groan on her skin. "I guess the good part of not living together means you get to surprise me." More kisses then, first on her collarbone before he followed the line of her neck up to her lips. "Even if it means I don't get to see you all that much, sometimes." His shift schedule had more or less steadied out by this point in his career, but there were still the occasional night calls. As much as he loved the water, Marc much preferred spending his nights cozied up to Rebecca on the couch or in bed than out in the windy harbor. Sighing contentedly, Rebecca kissed him again before she responded with, “You have a key.” Idly, she played with the short hairs at the nape of Marc’s neck. “You could always surprise me.” They’d had the conversation before, it had actually been what had spurred her to make an extra key for Marc in the first place, but she didn’t want to talk about it again. She liked her independence, and she didn’t want to have to worry about what she would do if they didn’t work out. If she kept her own apartment it wasn’t an issue. “I really wouldn’t mind, you know.” Rebecca moved closer, almost impossibly so, enough that she felt every inhale and exhale that Marc took. “Mrs. Albright at the end of the hall might talk, but she already does that anyway.” "She sure does." She was so close to him, and it was all too tempting to lean in and kiss her again, but Marc couldn't help himself. It was an old discussion (some might call it a 'fight,' but that wasn't him), but it was too easy to revisit it despite the potential consequences. In that moment, it suddenly seemed very important that he hear it from her again. "What do I have to do to get you to move in with me, princess?" Rebecca raised her eyebrows. “You’ve forgotten already?” she questioned. “Maybe I should write it down for you.” She kept her tone playful, since she wasn’t intending to start a disagreement when their night had been going so well. “Buy me a ring, mon cher.” Maybe to some it might have seemed manipulative, but Rebecca had always felt like she was only exercising her right to a choice. She was hardly old-fashioned, but a ring, marriage, they had always seemed like they held some security to them. “That’s what you can do, if you’d like my answer to change.” "Two years isn't long enough for you to realize I'm serious about you?" There was a slight undercurrent of truth to the protest he was feigning, even as he shifted to press the box in his pocket against her upper thigh and the sexy as hell dress she was wearing that evening. He leaned down as though to kiss her again, then added, "That a ring in my pocket or am I just happy to see you?" There was a long pause; Rebecca didn’t know what to say. Was he joking? “Quelle?” she murmured, eyes wide, like she wasn’t processing what Marc had said with what was unmistakably the feel of some small box digging into her thigh. “That’s not funny, Marcel.” He rarely, if ever really, joked like that with her, but she knew that he was capable of it. If she hadn’t been standing so near to him, she would have needed to sit. Her legs felt shaky, her heart was racing, and it couldn’t possibly be real. They had talked about it, of course. In a much smaller voice, with hope at the edges, she said, “Are you being serious?” "Of course I'm serious." He'd been banking on the fact that she'd be happy about this, but the silence between them had caused his happy tension to skew into the exact opposite realm of emotion. "I -- I love you, you know that." Suddenly, it was a lot more difficult to put words together, even words he'd said to her over and over throughout the last two years together. His throat felt dry, too, and swallowing didn't help. "And I'm gonna love you the rest of my life." He pulled away then, as far as her grip would allow, and slid down to kneel on one knee. The ring box was retrieved and opened, too, even though Marc could barely suppress a chuckle at how cliché this all was. It was the kind of fairy tale ending he'd never thought was real before, but he wanted to make it true with her. "Will you marry me, Rebecca?" She was going to cry, she felt the tears brimming, threatening to spill over to her cheeks. “Yes, yes, of course,” she squeaked out as a wave of happiness hit her, threatening to buckle her knees. She hadn’t meant to think it was a joke, but there had been some disbelief on her part, it hadn’t felt real until he was on one knee. “Always. I love you.” The boat rocked gently, but Rebecca had been holding onto her balance so precariously to begin with that she swayed like they’d been hit by a much larger wave. He steadied her out of habit, despite his current, less-stable position, as he looked up at her. At his fianceé, his soon-to-be wife. God, life was good. "I love you," he echoed, his face breaking into a grin. "Even if you never really got your sea legs." She laughed, watery and happy, then lowered herself to the boat deck carefully so she was eye level with Marc, more or less. “I’m sorry,” she apologized as the happy tears she’d been fighting won and trailed down her cheeks. “I didn’t mean to… I feel like someone should pinch me.” Rebecca laughed again, hiccuping softly before she knelt forward and kissed him. She hadn’t even really looked at the ring, it felt so unreal. “Yes,” she repeated, like she needed to say it again to tell herself it wasn’t a dream. 2010: They hadn't meant to get pregnant so quickly after marrying, but as soon as they found out there wasn't any turning back. Marc's parents had long been asking when to expect their first grandchildren -- the first time they'd asked had been the time Marc had broken the news about seeing someone new back in 2007, actually -- and they were overjoyed to hear that Rebecca was pregnant. He'd fallen into the role of father-to-be as easily as he'd taken on the role of 'cop': buying all the equipment, reorganizing their home, clearing out space in storage for all the things they'd inevitably need for their son. Despite the morning sickness, discomfort, and stress of finagling a maternity leave plan that would suit their family's needs, the two of them took to impending parenthood like an exciting challenge that they'd no doubt conquer. After all, they'd read the books, gone to all the classes, packed and repacked their emergency bag until Marc felt like he could do it in his sleep. And then Joshua came early. Two months early, too many months early. Rebecca's pregnancy had been fairly normal, they thought, and they'd controlled everything they could, but when Rebecca had to be taken into the hospital it felt like Marc's world was knocked off kilter. He could only watch from the sidelines while the doctors worked with his wife to deliver his son, and they spent the next few months spending more time at the hospital than they did in their apartment. Once they were able to bring him home, the tension and anxiety didn't stop. Now they were away from the watchful eye of doctors and nurses, and it was up to them to keep this tiny human being alive. Sometimes, Marc wasn't sure if they'd succeed. Tonight was one of the better nights, though. He'd somehow gotten Josh to sleep relatively quickly, and the baby monitor that sat on the side table of their couch was quiet. Marc ran a hand through his hair and yawned, wondering how many times their son would wake up that evening, then placed a proprietary hand on Rebecca's thigh once she sat down next to him on the couch. "He went down okay," he assured her, leaning in to kiss her cheek. “Thank God,” Rebecca returned, leaning into her husband a little bit, the tension that seemed ever present in her posture lately bleeding away until she almost felt like she could relax. “Now if only he would stay down for a few hours.” She knew better than to hope for all night, since there would be at least a few feedings peppered into the evening hours. Shifting on the couch, she draped her legs over Marc’s and gave him a small smile as he pulled her against him, his other arm moving over her shoulders. She felt tired almost all the time most days, but at least she knew she had support. “I don’t know what I’ll do when my maternity leave is up.” She had already had to rearrange things a little more than she’d wanted to because of Joshua’s unexpected early arrival. There was still a few more weeks before she was expected back, but that didn’t feel long enough. Her son was just so little, and she still worried. Maybe if he’d been full term she wouldn’t, but he wasn’t, and so she did. "My mom did offer to watch him." Marc's mother didn't work and she had the time to do it now that Leo was in college -- still weird for Marc to think about, his baby brother being a full-fledged adult now -- but he wasn't sure how serious the offer had actually been. Still, it was more than nothing. "I'm sure she could help out if we needed her to. Or we can get a nanny or something." Another option they'd momentarily considered once or twice in the sleepless nights they'd had since Josh's birth, and with their combined incomes they could afford it. Rebecca worried the hem of Marc’s shirt between her fingers, wading back through the conversations that they’d already had about this. The ones that had all ended with them tabling things for when it actually became more necessary to figure out. She knew why she was hesitant though. She trusted her mother-in-law, but she was just so concerned about Joshua most of the time; how easy would it be for her to become the kind of mother that checked in every half hour, and forewent her competency at work because her head just wasn’t there. “I…” she began, then hesitated as she gathered her thoughts together, “I think I want to stay home a little longer.” She looked up at Marc, for support, for approval, or for reassurance that it wasn’t her own fear making a decision for her. “Just until Joshua’s a little bit older. It might make things a little tight,” she gave him an apologetic look, “but just for a little while.” So I’m sure he’ll be alright was the unspoken end to her sentence, but it was clear in her expression even if she hadn’t verbalized the words. "You're sure?" He wasn't opposed to the idea, nor was he immune to the fear and worry that she felt. But they'd gotten their current place on the assumption that they would have two salaries, and they now had three to take care of instead of two. But there were options, of course, to earn more; he could go back to school, get a higher degree, look for promotions where he could. Most of his free time was spent wrapped up in fatherhood, but maybe soon he'd be better able to pursue those things. It wasn't impossible to think that they could make it on his salary alone, just for a little while. He reached a hand out, smoothing a worry line on her forehead with his index finger, and smiled. She returned the smile hesitantly. Truth be told, he felt better about the idea of Rebecca watching him, too, and the more he thought about it, the more he liked it. "Why don't we see how things would look? Crunch the numbers a little and see if we can figure it out." They didn't necessarily need to make a decision that evening, but they were at least on the same page. That had to count for something. “It would only be a year, maybe two at the most.” Rebecca told herself more than she told him, reaching and intertwining her fingers with his. “We have a good savings, and we can move the money we budgeted for childcare to other things.” But she was too tired tonight to sift through any of that. She thought Marc probably was too. "We could. I mean, if that's what you want." Someone had to keep trying to be the voice of reason here, and even though it was obvious the two of them were falling more in love with the idea the longer they discussed hypotheticals, Marc couldn't help but worry about the practicality of the situation. “I,” the monitor crackled to life with a soft noise, interrupting Rebecca, and she held her breath, hoping it was just Joshua squawking a little in his sleep. After a few tense moments, she relaxed again when her hope was confirmed. “It’s just something to consider. I can always sell a few of my handbags too,” she added more playfully. Most of them hadn’t been expensive, but a few had been, and if that was what it’d take to make it work, she could make that sacrifice. He laughed, leaning down to steal a quick kiss. "Well, now I know you're really serious about this," he said, trying to play it off just like she had. Rebecca hadn't been the only one to tense at the sound coming from the baby monitor, though, and Marc hated worrying this much all the time. It was exhausting stuff on top of how tiring their days already were. Almost as if on cue, he yawned, screwing his eyes shut briefly before he opened them again to look at his wife. Rebecca yawned also, as if proving the old saying about yawns being contagious. Marc was already beginning to pinpoint little expressions that would flit briefly across their son's face that were clearly borrowed from this woman, and the tilt of his nose was much more like hers than his. "Either way, we're gonna be okay. We'll make sure we're okay. Okay?" “Okay,” Rebecca said, stretching a little, debating between moving or sleeping where she was at. “I want to do what’s best for Joshua.” She had no doubt that Marc did too, they were single-minded when it came to the care of their little boy. “I’m tired though, and it’s late,” she finished between a few more small yawns. “Help me to bed?” She gave her husband big, imploring eyes, and felt a little lighter now that they had agreed to talk about their options. He wedged his arm underneath her legs on his lap, then hoisted them both up with a proud, tired grin. "Sure thing." 2013: Joshua had been a hassle to get to bed. Every mother Rebecca knew from mommy classes kept telling her ‘don’t worry, he’ll grow out of it’, but bedtime had taken an hour when it should have been half that time. She was exhausted by the time she sat down in the small office off the kitchen (a nook really, but she liked to call it an office) to try and balance grocery budget for the month. She thought that living on a single income would have been easier by now, that the time Marc spent away from her and Joshua would have at least reflected in his paycheck, but she was always worried about money. There were scratched out sums, and a spreadsheet open on her laptop, and Rebecca was so focused on it that she didn’t hear the back door open or close; she had thought that Marc was getting off an hour ago, but it always seemed like his shifts never ended when he expected them to. Or rather when she expected them to. Indeed, she was so engrossed that Marc had managed to get his jacket off and grab a beer from the fridge before finally catching her attention. "Hey, princess," he said, twisting the cap off and tossing it in the trash. Rebecca turned briefly and gave him a half-hearted smile, then went back to her numbers. It wasn't exactly the kind of homecoming he used to imagine he'd get when they first finally moved in together. It felt as though they'd settled into each other's presence long before this evening, coming and going on their different schedules and taking time where they could. For a moment, he missed those early days when every time they'd see each other was something to anticipate. Not that things were bad now; they were just different. He took a swig of his beer, then asked, "Working on something?" “Budgets,” she replied without looking away from her sums and her spreadsheets. “I thought I had grocery all worked out, but I over spent last week, and now it’s all off.” Her frustration edged into her tone towards the end. “There’s only so many coupons I can clip before it gets to be tedious, and Joshua is growing like a weed,” and she abruptly stopped her ramble because the last thing that Marc needed after a long day was a tirade of all her troubles. “Just the usual,” she amended with another small smile. “How was your day?” "It was all right." He took a step closer to her and ran a careful hand down her back, hoping to relax Rebecca somewhat. Her shoulders relaxed only a little. "Same old shit checking ships, patrolling…" There'd been a couple of flare-ups at work, but he didn't feel like getting into it. Not when she was obviously frustrated already. He'd kind of expected that by this point she would've gone back to work, and their budgeting and money would be all right. "Things have been tight for a little while," he added. "Josh is three, now. There's that preschool right around the corner that we looked at a month ago for him… It might be time for him to go." “That preschool was expensive,” she pointed out, although it made her sound like she’d rather be home with Joshua. “We would need to save for months just to be able to cover the tuition.” They had a savings, but Rebecca liked to stay away from pulling money from it just in case they had larger emergencies; she’d heard enough stories about police officers getting injured in the line of duty and being off work for months at a time because of it. "It wasn't that expensive," he interjected with a slight frown. "Too expensive for right now, but if you got a good job, or picked up some part-time work you could do from home, we could make it all right." She sighed, not unhappily. “I did like it.” But it only covered a few mornings a week. Would it even be worth her going back to work if her salary only covered preschool costs? “What if he’s still too young, though?” Rebecca disliked feeling conflicted, she hadn’t envisioned herself as a stay at home mom, but she’d gotten used to it, and she was concerned about setting Joshua up for a failure if he wasn’t ready to be in preschool yet. "I think we should bring him in, see what they make of the kid." Marc was a little biased, and he certainly didn't know how to professionally assess Joshua regarding his preschool-readiness, but he happened to think their son was ready for anything. "You know my cousins started their kids at two and a half and they were little dummies compared to where Josh is at now." Marc’s words pulled a hiccuping laugh out of Rebecca, and then a quick, “Don’t say that.” But her admonishment was half-hearted, since he wasn’t wrong. Joshua did seem more advanced than they had been, he might be okay. "Okay," he said agreeably. "As long as you know that I'm thinking it." She laughed and gave him a placating smile. “What if I’m not ready, though?” she admitted, seriousness edging it’s way back into her tone and her expression. “I’m not seriously arguing against it... but you aren’t with him all the time like I am.” She knew she sounded a little selfish, like enrichment for their son and the ability to go back to work were going to disrupt her life, or worse become some kind of a trauma, but there was no way she couldn’t talk about it without addressing whether or not she might experience separation anxiety. "I mean… He's gonna have to go to school eventually, right?" His mother had been a stay at home mom, too, but they'd all started preschool at the right time. They'd been so worried about Joshua when he'd first been born, but he was doing well now. Even the doctors seemed to agree. He took a seat next to her, reaching for her hand across the paperwork and computer on the tabletop. "We'll adjust, and it's gonna be good." And they needed the money; the longer they continued to wait on it, the harder it would be. "We can't always watch over him forever." Rebecca bristled even though Marc was right; she almost pulled her hand out of his grasp, but didn’t. “I’m his mother,” she emphasized tersely, not at all how she intended to say it. His eyebrows raised, the only sign of his surprise, but he kept quiet for now. “I’ll be old and gray, and still I’ll be watching over him.” She knew what Marc meant, of course, and the rational part of her knew that he was right, but the irrational fear that she wouldn’t be able to protect him if it was too soon overpowered it. “Let’s just start with the school visit,” she continued with a sigh, “we can work the rest out after that.” They didn't argue all that often, but Marc knew enough to wait a few minutes, double checking whether she had anything else to say, before speaking up again. "If you're sure," he said, though the expression on his face made it clear that he hoped she was. As soon as Joshua started going to preschool, whether it was their first choice or another, it would only make sense for them to go back to a dual income household. "I'll call them tomorrow and see when we can stop by." “I’d appreciate that,” she replied, an undercurrent of hesitation and a little bit of a irritation still playing beneath her skin. Although, she couldn’t say whether she was irritated with Marc or herself, or the budget she’d been trying to work on when he walked in. Maybe it would all feel different in the morning when she was rested. “Let me finish this, then I can scrounge up a few things, if you’re hungry.” Rebecca gave her husband another half-smile, a little drawn around the edges, then leaned over to give him a quick kiss, like that could erase the tension in the room. 2016: Their son was asleep, but that didn't stop them from fighting. Instead of raised voices and slammed fists on tabletops to punctuate points, they stuck to hissing barbs and rejoinders back at each other, picking at tired topics and sticking points. If Marc was thinking more rationally, he'd see that they'd been having variations of this fight for years without any real resolution. "It doesn't make sense for him to keep going to McDonogh anymore," he told her for the fifth time that night. Tuition was due next week for the 2016-2017 school year, and they were struggling to put the pieces together. "Not when it costs more than I paid to go to one year of college, and you're barely working." Rebecca sighed and rolled her eyes. She was stubborn enough to hold her ground on her opinion, even if Marc had a point. But they’d already talked about schools, and she thought they had agreed that McDonogh was for the best. “Well, if you’d…” she cut herself off abruptly, not quite angry enough to finger point just yet. “McDonogh will look good on his school transcripts,” she argued instead. “And he likes it there. What happens if he gets lost in the shuffle of kids in the public schools?” She folded her arms. "I went to public schools and I turned out fine." Maybe he hadn't had the biggest interest in learning, but he knew plenty of people who had. What the fuck did it matter, anyway? "Any college who thinks public school isn't good enough is too stuck up for my taste anyway." “That is not what I meant,” she argued tersely. “The school has a tuition aid program, I can speak to the office about it, if you’re concerned.” Rebecca was more pointed than she should have been, but it felt like they were retreading things that they had already talked about. "Are you not? We're losing money every single year." And she still hadn't gone back to work full time. Rebecca folded her arms, in an effort to keep from throwing her hands up in frustration. “Of course I am, I’ve seen our bank accounts,” she snapped back. “But you could take a promotion too. You’re barely --,” she cut herself off again, not quite to boiling just yet. If only it were a case where every argument wasn’t about money, but that seemed to be all they argued about lately. Money, and how little Marc was around. “I really don’t think the answer is moving Joshua out of his school.” "Yeah? Well, something else has gotta change, and I think we both know what the easiest thing is." Marc was already overworked, putting in more hours than he deserved with his current salary, and the people ahead of him weren't in a better situation despite making a little more money. Meanwhile, Rebecca wasn't doing shit, even with the time she had free while their son was at school. "I have to go back to school before I even get considered for a promotion," he told her -- it was likely the fifteenth time at least that he'd told her this -- and with each repetition, it grated on him more. "More fucking money spent that we don't have. And the raise after that wouldn't be enough to cover our losses. We need a second salary, princess." Rebecca muttered a few frustrated words in French before she responded with, “Why don’t you just come out and say that you’d like me to increase my hours.” It wasn’t even that she was opposed, but she’d gotten used to her routines while Joshua was little, and worried that if she worked more there might end up being a case where her son would need her and she wouldn’t be there. “It’s what you’re thinking.” "Fine. It is." Maybe it would've been easier if Marc had just led with that, but every time he even tried to bring it up she shot him down. He was tired of feeling like the fate of their livelihood rested solely on his shoulders. "You already know it, obviously, so why don't you fucking do it?" “It’s not as simple as that,” Rebecca threw back at him. “I can’t just march into the office and demand full time hours.” She had gotten steadily louder as she spoke, not quite yelling, but it was obvious that she was angry. “And what if Joshua needs me, what if there’s a problem at school? It’s not as if you can drop everything to pick him up, and if I’m working more it won’t be like I’ll have that freedom either.” Her biggest concern, most definitely the largest reason why she’d been digging her heels in mulishly. "He has grandparents who live here," Marc retorted, an edge sharpening his voice in lieu of shouting. They'd been helping out where they could -- or when Rebecca would let them, he sometimes thought, unfairly -- over the last few years. "You could always call them. Or my sister. Hell, even Leo could get him." “Fine,” she responded sourly. “It’s absolutely fair to make your family responsible for our child. As if they don’t have their own lives to juggle.” The worst thing was, Rebecca knew Marc was right. She knew her mother and father-in-law wouldn’t mind, and that Marc’s siblings would be more than happy to help in a pinch, but her own stubbornness and fear kept her from admitting that. "I hear it takes a village, or some shit like that." Marc raised his eyebrows as he looked over at her, his gaze unflinching. "Might be worth considering, since we need the help while we try to figure this money stuff out." She sighed and deflated a little more. It was like she was watching their argument unfold outside of herself, unable to inject her more sensible nature into her own words. “Or worse, what if Joshua doesn’t need me?” she said, her eyes still moderately flinty. “Then what have the last five years been? A waste of my time?” Marc let out a sharp exhale, trying to push out all of his annoyance at her irrationality out with the hot air. "Our son is always gonna need you. You're his mother. It's not like… That's not how it works, princess." “How would you know? It’s not like you’ve raised a child before either.” "You either. So why does that make me the dummy and you the parenting expert if we're in the same goddamned boat?" He knew all too well that they were going in circles on this, just like all the other evenings they'd argued about this, but there was no out. Rebecca cringed, and felt Marc’s words like a slap. She wasn’t being fair to him, and she was getting increasingly frustrated with herself. What was it really worth to be right? Especially when Marc wasn’t wrong. It wasn’t like she enjoyed arguing with her husband either, so the ridiculousness of their fight escalated each time she opened her mouth and refused to relent. They were in a standoff of Rebecca’s own creation, and she was exhausted by it. Sighing again, she looked at Marc, tired of the fight, tired of seeming like she was purposely being difficult. “I’ll talk to my boss tomorrow. Then we can talk about Joshua’s school again, afterwards,” she told him, not without difficulty, but it was more than she’d been willing to say minutes before that. "Fine." It was something, maybe, if his wife actually went through with what she was proposing. By this point, though, he wasn't sure if he believed she would. He stood up, feeling ten times more exhausted than he had just a few minutes ago, and shook his head. "I'm gonna go down to the basement. I'll be back up soon." “I’ll be upstairs,” she replied, standing also. Her own petty feelings wanted to tell him she would be asleep before he came up, but she couldn’t bring herself to say those damaging words. “I’m going to check on Joshua.” They had been quiet enough that she didn’t think they’d disturbed his sleep. However, she didn’t give room for a response from her husband before she left the kitchen. So, maybe not all of her maturity was intact. |