- Spoiler:
(OOC: Carter Baizen is a shit. xD)
Avery waited outside the door, listening for any sign that Robin was inside. Unfortunately, there was nowhere else that he could have been, so her chance of getting inside without his gaze falling on her was insanely unlikely. There was no getting out of this, she knew, and putting it off would only make her more anxious and less likely to be able to force the words out.
She pushed the door open and closed it behind her, trying not to stare at him where he lay across the bed, staring at the ceiling. Her fingers toyed with the strap of her bag, thinking back to what she had left on his bed. A shiver ran over her at the realization that they were still supposed to share a bed. She knew he wouldn’t want her to, and although the realization wasn’t surprising, it still burned a hole in her chest. Silently, she set the bag down on the floor and gathered up the things she had brought for him, setting them on the mattress beside him.
Not a half hour later, Avery found herself sitting on the bed alone, fingers toying with the sheets that covered her legs. She glared at the pillow that took up the space that her husband should have filled. It was like the bit of fluff was taunting her or suggesting some sad future in which she ended up alone in a bed just like this one. She rolled her eyes at herself but returned to scowling at the offending object nonetheless. Did Robin really think Avery wanted him to take the floor when it was so painfully clear that everything was her fault? She could see it all so easily now, where the alcohol had obviously clouded her mind the night before.
She peered over the edge of the mattress, trying to get a look at him. A part of her hoped he had slept well the night before, and could do so now. But the sensible side of her brain suggested how mental she was to think that this didn’t affect him at all. It did, didn’t it? If not, maybe she was right in her assessment of his changed interest in her. Avery frowned again, snatching her pillow off of the bed behind her and pushing herself off of the bed. If he was going to refuse the bed, then she certainly would, too. Robin didn’t get to make her feel even more horrible by being all chivalrous. Even if that wasn’t his exact intention. It was either that, or he just couldn’t stand to be close to her or to have to look at her.
She really was being a pessimist lately. She hadn’t always been that way, but something about hiding the truth from Robin had brought it out. It wasn’t like he had actually told her
his story or anything, but that didn’t mean she could go on pretending everything was fine when all she really wanted was for him to make up his mind about her. If he heard it all and couldn’t accept it – didn’t accept her – then fine. She could figure something out. It wouldn’t be the first time her sleeping arrangements were made at the last minute. She always had her office as an option.
Avery threw the pillow on the floor and seated herself. No, she wasn’t about to gather up a blanket, regardless of the chill that filled the house. Her thoughts were too distracting. Instead, she turned towards the bed, curling up with her head atop the pillow and continued making hurried and nervous plans. Living in her office definitely wasn’t… ideal. But she refused to be that person that invited herself into someone else’s home. She undoubtedly couldn’t stay in the Hayes household – not with Keiran mad, Aiden gone, and Bridget so disappointed in her. It would just hurt everyone.
How was she supposed to start that conversation, anyway? How could she explain and let him decide if he didn’t want her? Finally, she said the first thing that came to her mind.
“You really should take the bed. I won’t be sleeping anyway.”
She wasn’t about to stop him if he chose to move; maybe he could get in a good night’s sleep and be less opposed to dealing with her in the morning.
Yes, Avery, she chided herself darkly,
Because he’s stupid enough to ruin his Christmas even further by listening to your baggage. I’m so sure.A part of her mind suggested that the voice snapping at her sounded rather like Claire, but she had no idea if she was right or not anymore. She hadn’t been sure for years.
Silence reigned for a while, leaving her desperate for anything. Any word, any sign that he might be listening or might have chosen to respond. That he might care if she explained. After her mind started racing, she could feel the words threatening to fall far too rapidly.
“Look,” she sighed, not even sure if Robin was awake. He could have cast some silencing charm on her side of the room for all she knew, and she could be talking to herself. “I understand why you’re angry. I’ve said it over and over: I accept that this is all on me. I don’t have the right to expect lists from you or expect you to tell me everything. Just because my history isn't filled with friends or relationships or family like yours is doesn't mean that I can try and stick my nose into your business. Or stick myself into your life or your home. This was forced on you. You didn't want this, or me, and it wasn’t fair. I should have warned you earlier, instead of waiting for something to happen.”
She wasn’t explaining very well at all. Avery frowned, hoping for a moment that he would comment but not expecting him to. Her toes curled into the carpet repeatedly with the stress of trying to figure how to word things.
“I need to tell you about my past.” She said finally, the words far quieter than she’d meant them. “I should have before, but… I mean, I’ve never told anyone the whole of it before, so I’m not sure how. I’m not sure how you’ll take it. I don’t expect it to go over well, honestly, so I’ll understand if you react negatively.”
She averted her gaze to the ceiling, leaning back against the mattress after turning to face the door to the bathroom. Anything to keep from trying to look over at him in the space between the bed and the floor. “If I don’t tell you, though, you won’t ever understand why I’m… like this. Why I got so worked up about the wedding or why I bolted last night.” She winced silently at the memory, hoping he hadn’t done the same.
“So I want to tell you this now, so you can figure what you want to do in the morning.” The words tasted bitter as they left her mouth, the weight of them sinking in. This might it for them if she explained things poorly. “But I- I need you to stay where you are. I can learn to deal with the fact that when I look at you I’ll see how angry you are, and that you’re starting to hate all of these parts of me. That you probably don’t… don’t want me anymore.” She almost managed not to trip over the words, but they came out just as she had intended: as fact, and without any hint of malice or frustration. It wasn’t like she had a right to be upset about the things she had caused.
“I suppose if you stay there I can pretend for a few minutes that those things aren’t true. I can’t stand the idea of looking over when I’m talking and physically seeing your opinion of me change. See it get even worse.” Avery very nearly stopped right then, her throat tightening with the fear of it. “From a distance I can just
know it, rather than have to face it. I don’t really deserve your agreeing to it, but I’m not sure I can tell it otherwise. So if you stay there, I’ll be able to tell you everything.”
Her fingers laced together and she tried to keep from tugging on her hair or twisting the fabric of her shirt in the space of time that was only filled by breathing and worry. Surely the story would raise more issues than the number it fixed, but at least he would understand. He had to understand.
It took some effort to convince her mouth to open, but when the words came out, they were far stronger than she had expected. At least she wasn’t falling into the trap of water works already.
“The last time I spoke to anyone in my immediate family, I was ten.”
Avery clenched her eyes shut. It felt like the door was staring at her, judging her every word, and she’d only just begun. Better to block out everything and just go on.
“I guess things were alright when I was younger. I don’t really remember most of it. The first thing that comes to mind when I think of childhood is my parents’ divorce. See, I was eight and Clarissa was four. I don’t know if she just wanted to keep hoping that they would get back together, or if she really thought I was lying, or what. But I tried to explain that it just wasn’t working for them, and that they weren’t going to be able to get together again. They couldn’t keep together for us when it made them sad, and I understood that. But Claire didn’t, I guess. I can’t recall exactly what was said, but I ended up so frustrated and scared about all of the changes. I was so angry that she didn’t understand that I yelled at her.” Avery’s arms came up to hug herself as a chill passed over her. The memory was becoming more and more faint, but the feeling was still there.
“She was so angry with me. And I get why. But she closed herself off from me and everything was changing. Dad moved out and Claire went with him. Even still, Mum seemed closer to Claire than to me. I just sort of kept to myself. Sure, I’d answer questions and the like, but I just didn’t feel right adding to their conversations. Mum knew I’d hurt Claire, so I didn’t know how to act. Honestly, any talking between Claire and myself involved fighting. It was a mess. I think the guilt of it just got to me… So more often than not, I’d stick to myself – as Claire seemed to many days as well – and let Mum and Claire chat.
One of those times I remember very well. I remember it word for word. So well that it hurts.” She shook her head. As if verbally attacking her little sister wasn’t bad enough, the coming part of her story practically came with the warning: Tears included. Robin would think she was even more off her jump than usual. “Mum sometimes seemed to feel a little guilty for not having a set reason for the divorce. She kind of went off on these stories or explanations, as if it would change things and make them better. Make them make sense. I was nine, and Claire was five when she told Clarissa the most important explanation. I guess she was still a little too young to get the importance of it all, but even from my spot in the next room, I understood what she said to Claire. She said, ‘You know, love, there’s that saying: Things happen for a reason. That’s just like what happened for me and your dad. See, everyone has a person out there who they’re meant to be with. Everyone has their Person. Now, if you find that person, you’ve got to stick with them. Remember that. Your father might find it, but not with me. So I couldn’t keep him from the chance; it wouldn’t be fair to either of us. Or to you. Just being close to someone or thinking you love someone isn’t always enough. Your Person has what I call The Forever Stuff. This stuff is what makes up a real, true love. It’s not anything material or anything you can see, but you can feel it. They fill that bit of you that is left empty, waiting for them. This also works for families. You’re my forever stuff just as I am yours.’”
Avery frowned. “It was all well and good, of course, and the idea was beautiful and romantic until I realized that mum never used any plurals except for putting her and dad together. Weird thing to notice, I guess, for a nine year old. But when you’re not included in a list of things your mum loves and apparently needs, and she knows you’re sitting right there listening? Well, that doesn’t bode well for your position in the family. So I spent the next several years wondering what exactly had changed. Why I wasn’t wanted, wasn’t needed, and was basically left to my own devices. By the time I left for school, I didn’t speak at all.
The last thing I ever said to my parents and Claire was Goodbye. Sure, I came home during breaks. But they didn’t really talk to me very much, and Claire was often with dad, so things weren’t very different and my silence continued until my fourth year. I’m not sure I even spoke during classes.” She shrugged, even knowing he couldn’t see her. “At the wed- … That is, you said that you didn’t know why we hadn’t met in school. I daresay it’s obvious now. I was that weird girl who liked dragons but didn’t really talk. I never asked, but Claire didn’t seem to want anyone to know we were related. Not her fault, though, I guess. I’m basically the worst sister that ever was.”
Her eyes stung. Apparently she'd been crying for a while without realizing it. When she paused for breath, her throat burned.
“I moved out before fifth year, living with a cousin on dad’s side – the one person I’d managed to keep in touch with. And thank Merlin I did, or who knows what I would have done?” She shuddered even to think what could have happened. “That’s when I started working and saving money for Uni. I met Keiran, who somehow convinced me to give a little information about myself. Enough for him to realize I’d started renting a flat and had no one to see for Christmas. So he brought me here… I’ve stayed in this room every year since. Christmas Eve until New Year’s day. Then I’d make myself head back to my flat and let them have their time alone together. Bridget always asked me to stay longer, but I realized it wasn’t even two years before I started calling them Mum and Dad in my head. It sounds kind of crazy, but knowing Bridget and Aiden, it’s not so hard to imagine.
I knew that if I stayed longer than that silently agreed upon week and a half, then I would never want to leave. I mean,” she corrected herself quickly, “I didn’t want to leave regardless. But when things went so badly because of me the first time… I just wasn’t going to risk it.”
Her fists clenched the fabric of her shirt.
“And- and I was right, you know?” Avery gasped out, tears pouring more quickly. “Because now Aiden is gone and I’ve already started losing my second chance at a family. Maybe I should have stayed longer during those holidays. Or maybe that would have just hurt more in the end.” Avery hated thinking about the past, obviously, but now that he had let her start, she wasn’t sure where to stop. “And now I’ve gone and messed up things with Keiran. So there’s another part of that family on the edge of falling to pieces. And then… there’s you.” She shook her head dejectedly. “This is the third time I’ve managed to ruin things for the people around me. For some semblance of a family.”
Robin had called them that, once. A family. Just the one time, in his letter. After she suggested that it was
their home. But it wasn't. She had made it impossible for them to be the family he'd suggested. As much hope as the word had created, it was quashed by the idea that this sort of thing would happen. Now, here she was, exactly where she knew she would end up.
“I always end up losing the people I care about. I don’t know why I let myself act so stupidly and impulsively. The fear of being alone somehow makes it happen, I guess. I’m so afraid of it that it becomes real. So that’s why I was so sure, yesterday, that I was right. So sure I had to leave. Because, and you’ve probably caught on by now, sooner rather than later you’ll decide that this – whatever we have – just isn’t worth it.”
Her eyes blinked hard, glancing about the room. Merlin she'd mentioned their marriage hadn’t she? Oh hell.. She had gone and done it again, it seemed. She just would never learn. Her silence stretched on for at least a minute before she jumped into action.
“Look,” she said suddenly, standing and picking up the pillow, “um, I really think you should use the bed.” She tossed the pillow onto the sheets again, fingers dancing over the shorts she’d donned for bed as her eyes jumped around the room. Her flight instinct was kicking in full force and she wasn’t at all sure how to handle herself. All of the choices her gut had suggested recently had been dead wrong. Running hadn’t worked out so well the last time.
Avery was just plain tired. Tired of running. Of worrying. Of being
that person: the one who ruined lives and hurt people. Especially herself. She had always known that she was like that. She’d always been a bit of what one might call a problem child. She just needed to stop. Stop completely. Avery doubted there was any chance of starting over with anyone she had mentioned in her strange semblance of a speech. So that included the man who she wasn’t quite sure how to do without anymore.
She pressed the palms of her hands against her face and sunk back to the floor, pillow-less and shivering. “I didn’t mean to hurt Claire. Or anyone.” The words came out as a whisper, mostly to herself, and possibly too quiet for Robin to catch. “And now, it’s too late to fix
any of it.”
Dramatic? Yeah, maybe. But at that point, she couldn’t quite bring herself to care. As if everything else in their lives hadn’t been awful already, she’d gone and dropped the bomb right on his head. Gone and given him a million reasons to do something rash like ask her to move out. They needn’t break any Ministry laws if they did that. Except maybe the whole having kids part. That wasn’t looking likely at this point. Not when he couldn’t even
look at her. Avery wasn’t sure she wanted him to, though, considering she was curled up with her face in her hands like she was that nine-year-old again, and her mum had just dismissed her once more.