We'll See

Seven months and twenty eight days

The bar was empty, Danny and Kirsch were cleaning, and the peanut Carmilla aimed at Kirsch sailed above his head. She grumbled as she lined up another shot, placing it onto the spoon she held, aware that Laura’s leg was pressed against her and blaming that for the poor aim she was having. After talking it through, Perry had agreed to try and find out more about Vordenburg before they told Laura anything. They figured the three of them would be low enough on the man’s radar for him to cause them any trouble.

So far she had only hit Kirsch once and Danny twice, and she knew she was better than that.

“Carmilla, I swear.”

“Dude, not cool.”

Laura giggled and turned her head away into Carmilla’s shoulder as a peanut bounced of Danny’s head. She flipped her off, but Carmilla just grinned more.

“You could help, you know.”

“I’m a paying customer.”

“You’ve never brought a drink here in your life.”

Carmilla shrugged. “Can I try?” Laura asked her quietly. She took the spoon and aimed. A peanut hit Kirsch on the arm, and he clutched it, pretending to be hurt.

“You too, L?” he gasped, sounding wounded. Laura hid her giggles into Carmilla again.

Danny began to rethink the bet she made, and judging by Kirsch’s smug look he was thinking the same.

Laura poked Carmilla in the ribs to get her attention. “Can I ask you a favour?” Carmilla raised an eyebrow. “Another favour.”

“Shoot.”

“My dad’s found a buyer for the house, so I need to go through my stuff. Will you come with me?”

“Sure.”

“Thanks.”

“Anything else? A new kidney? My firstborn?”

Laura poked her again, before making a grab for the peanuts and missing Kirsch by inches.

“You didn’t account for the wind.”

“We’re inside.”

Kirsch sidled up to Danny. “You’re going to lose the bet,” he whispered, kissing her cheek when she scowled.

//

“So I get to see your hometown.”

“Yes, Carm, you get to see my hometown.”

“Where little Laura grew up.”

“I’m going to regret this.”

“With pigtails and playing on the swings.”

“Starting to sound a bit amber alert.”

“This is a very wifely thing to do.”

“Definitely regretting this.”

“I’m your wife, I should know about your past.”

“Only for seven months and twenty eight days.”

“We’ll see.”

//

Seven months and eighteen days

Compared to where Carmilla grew up, Laura’s house was small and perky, and the town similar. Carmilla loved it instantly. She grinned as Laura rushed into her father’s arms, offering him a wave as she carted their bags in. They intended on staying the night, then catching a train home in the afternoon.

“My rooms upstairs.” Laura told her, evidently indicating that’s where she should take the bags. “We only have the two.”

“Couch is fine.”

Carmilla winked as she went to find Laura’s room, depositing the bags on the bed. It screamed Laura, with yellow curtains and ducks on the wallpaper.

“Don’t laugh.”

“Nice ducks.”

Laura poked her in the ribs as she passed.

“You okay?” Carmilla asked as she settled on the bed.

“Thank you for coming with me.”

“I wanted to see your dad. Completely selfish reasons.”

“You’re allowed to laugh at three things I used to own.”

“Six.”

“Four. And one snigger.”

“Deal.”

Laura beamed at her, though it was tinged in sadness.

“Dads making lunch. Then we can start with the attic.”

“Is it four things per room?”

“No.”

//

Laura decided that taking a break consisted of curling next to Carmilla against the attic wall, trying not to cry. Her things brought back memories, memories that filled her with a deep sadness of what was and what could have been. Carmilla’s fingers threaded through her hair, and every now and again she would scratch gently at her scalp. Comfort filled Laura, and she tried to ignore the heaviness in her chest.

Old books and videos littered the floor from the boxes that had been stored away. Carmilla had used up two of her laughs already, one a yellow Carebear that sang when you tickled it, and the second when Laura had tripped on a Disney album. Carmilla had argued that it hadn’t counted, as it had been at Laura and not an item, but Laura was adamant.

A lot of things could be donated, and it was getting easier selecting what could be thrown away.

“I wasn’t unhappy with just my dad.” Laura felt the need to clarify.

“I know that.”

“I just never understood why she left.”

“I don’t understand it either, cupcake. We just have to deal with what we’re given, I suppose.”

“My dad is probably willing to adopt you, if you’re on the lookout for another parent.”

Carmilla smiled. “I think that might put a bit of complications onto our relationship, don’t you?”

“Fine. He can adopt you in seven months and twenty two days.”

“We’ll see.”

Laura moved her head from Carmilla’s shoulder, surveying the boxes they still had. “Breaks over.”

“This was a break to you?”

“Look at us, hugging in lofts again.”

“Have to admire our consistency.”

“It’s the basement next.”

“That one you might have to tackle on your own.” Laura looked at Carmilla curiously. “I don’t do basements.”

//

While Laura was in the basement, finding which boxes she should bring up to sort through, Carmilla wondered into the kitchen, watching as Michael tried to work out how to fit the television stand back into its box.

“Need a hand?”

“I have the theory that companies make things so hard to get back into the box they came in so that you will go out and buy another one.”

“Capitalism,” Carmilla scoffed.

Michael smiled over at her as she got some water from the kitchen.

“How’s it going?”

“I’ve used two laughs and a snigger.”

“What?”

“It’s going fine. She’s holding it together. In truth I don’t really know how to help that much.”

“You’re doing fine.” He smiled at her encouragingly. “Honestly, she’s never confided in anyone about this kind of stuff. I don’t know if you’ve noticed but she can be a bit closed off.”

Carmilla had noticed, but didn’t mention that she still had seven and a half months to change that.

“Do you know what happened with her mother? Why she left?” Michael frowned as he turned back to the stand. “Sorry if I’m overstepping.”

“I don’t know where she went. If she found someone else, another family. If she’s even alive. I tried to find out at first, but I soon stopped. She destroyed Laura, and I didn’t want to know her after that.”

“How could someone just get up and leave her?”

“It’s sentences like that that make me hopeful you’ll be sticking around.”

“For as long as she’ll have me.”

Michael smiled like he had a secret she didn’t know, and just laughed when she looked at him questioningly.

“Why are you laughing?” Laura appeared in the doorway holding two boxes, stacked so that they were almost bigger than her.

“Carmilla was telling me about capitalism.”

“You two are weird. Can we go through these in my room?”

“Can you make it up there without toppling over?”

“You could take a box.”

“I’m holding water.”

//

When all the sorting was done, after Laura had cried twice and Carmilla had used up her four laughs and one snigger, they settled down for a last meal in Laura’s house. Her father was regaling Carmilla with yet another story about Laura’s awkward childhood, when Laura blurted out “we’re married”, causing Carmilla to choke on her noodles and her father to stop mid word.

After making sure that Carmilla could breathe again, her father looked at Laura for an explanation. She told him, keeping to the PG version. She had expected disappointment, or judgement, or at least a bit of anger that she had been so reckless, but instead he laughed. And laughed. And Carmilla grumbled and went back to her food whilst he carried on laughing some more.

“Dad,” Laura complained.

“Sorry,” he said, whipping tears from his eyes. “And don’t take my amusement for me being anything less than furious at you for being so irresponsible and getting yourself into that position. But god.” And then he started laughing again. “So what happened? You decided to stay married and see where it goes.”

“Yes.”

“No.” Laura scowled at Carmilla. “Someone messed up our divorce hearing.”

“It was me,” Carmilla confessed.

“I picked up on that.”

“Now we have to be married for a year until we can get one.”

“I see.” Michael nodded. “And you decided to tell me this now because?”

Laura shrugged. “I didn’t want to lie.”

“Okay. I mean I never explicitly asked the question ‘did you marry her in Vegas’, but I appreciate the honesty.” Carmilla sniggered as her father grinned at her. “And I feel I would be a bad parent if I didn’t scold you for being so reckless. You’re lucky you ended up with someone like Carmilla.”

“I tell her that all the time.”

“It could have been a serial killer.”

“Right, I’m sure serial killers always hang out at the chapels,” muttered Laura.

“What was that?”

“I said you’re right and I’m sorry.”

He turned to Carmilla. “You’re sleeping on the couch tonight, right?”

“Yes.”

“Good.”

“Dad!”

“I’m sorry, Laura, but it was different when I thought she was just a friend you had a crush on. Now that she’s your wife we need rules.”

“I don’t… That’s not… Dad!”

Laura’s sentences were drowned out by laughter, and she huffed.

//

“You good?” Carmilla leant on the doorway to Laura’s room. She was holding the yellow Carebear and fiddling with its ears.

“My mum brought me this.”

“I thought that was in the donate box.”

“It was. I took it out.”

“Didn’t think it got here all by itself.” Carmilla sat next to her. “Sorry I laughed at it.”

“It’s fine. Was it the singing or the colour?”

“The heart shaped ears.”

“Ah.”

The sound of Teddy Bears Picnic came from the bear’s stomach when Laura poked its sides. They waited out the song, and silence filled the room. Tears were forming in Laura’s eyes, and Carmilla pulled her against her.

“Sorry.”

“It’s okay.”

“I know you don’t like hugging.”

“I don’t mind too much.”

“I still miss her.” It came out as a whisper. “I’m so angry at her for leaving us. But I still miss her.”

“I get it.”

“You do?”

Carmilla nodded. “Parents are funny things.”

“Am I being insensitive? Because of what it was like with your mother?”

“No. I never had singing Carebears, or any particular good memories involving my mother. I hate my mother more than I’ve ever hated anyone, but she’s my mother to hate. Does that make sense?”

“I think so.” Laura threaded their hands together. “You know you don’t really have to sleep on the couch.”

“It’s fine.”

“That’s my way of asking you to stay.”

“You seemed pretty freaked out the last time we woke up together.”

“That was because you were naked. If you stay clothed it should be fine.”

“I make no promises.”

Laura sat up at gave her a small smile. And then she pouted.

“That’s cheating,” Carmilla groaned.

“I sleep on the left.”

“Will anymore of your toys sing nursery rhymes if I poke them in the side?”

“Only Frank.”

“Which ones Frank?”

“The giraffe.”

“Right. Silly me.” Carmilla located the giraffe, and grinned at Laura as Yankee Doodle played.

//

“You told your dad?”

“It’s not a big deal, Laf.”

“Kinda is, L. It’s almost making it official.”

“Stop it. You’re as bad as Carmilla.”

“How did he react?”

“He laughed.”

“Good man.”

//

“She told her dad.”

“You’ve said.”

“Her father. Who she adores. She told him.”

“Carmilla, we’re in court.”

“This is important.”

“I don’t think the jury agrees.”

“I’m going to tell the judge.”

“Sit down!”

//

Six months

“Happy anniversary.”

Carmilla held up a paper bag and grinning, a sense of déjà vu settling over her when Laura promptly closed the door she just opened.

“Cute.”

Laura opened the door again. “This is not an anniversary.”

“We’ve been married for six months. Some couples would celebrate that.”

“We are not one those couples.” Carmilla beamed. “We’re not a couple at all. Shut up.”

She moved to get the coffee from the kitchen, grumbling as Carmilla grinned while placing the pastries on plates.

“More almond croissants?” Laura said as Carmilla loaded three onto her plate.

“I have to say I was sceptical at first. So, how are we going to celebrate this milestone?”

“I was thinking of ignoring your phone calls and going to bed early.”

“That can be how we celebrate the next one. You can think of it as celebrating half way to being done with me if you like.” Carmilla was smirking as she said it, so Laura knew it wasn’t as self-deprecating as it sounded.

“Only if we invite Perry and Laf.”

“Double date.”

“No.”

//

Five months and twenty two days

Laura was seething. In fairness, she knew she had reasons not to be, but after going to Carmilla’s office looking for her and finding the file on Vordenburg that had been kept from her, Laura couldn’t help the anger that rose. People always tried to protect her, tried to keep her away from danger, and now Carmilla was keeping what was, potentially, a huge story from her. And she could guess why.

“Hey.” Carmilla was surprised to see Laura sitting at her desk, and even more surprised at the glare she sent her way when she walked in. It wasn’t the playful one when Carmilla was starting to annoy her. “What’s wrong?”

Laura held up the file.

“Oh.”

“Oh?”

“You read my stuff?”

“It’s got a post-it note that says Vordenburg.”

“That’s not an invitation to read it.”

“Were you going to tell me?”

“Yes.”

“When?”

“Eventually.”

“Seriously?”

“Laura.”

“This is my story.”

“I was looking into it.”

“For the past four months.”

“You read it right? You can see that this isn’t a guy you write an article about in some corner paper.”

“Corner paper?”

“I just mean…” Carmilla took a breath. “I just mean that this guy is bad news. With capital letters. Perry and I were just trying to get all we could about him.”

“And you didn’t think to fill me in?”

“It’s just you can be very … gung-ho.”

“Excuse me?”

“You don’t take time to think about things. And most of the time it’s endearing and it makes you a great reporter, but he hurts people, Laura.”

Laura nodded like Carmilla had just confirmed something she suspected. “So you were trying to protect me.”

“Don’t say it like it’s such a crime.”

“You lied.”

“I was going to tell you. Don’t storm out.”

“I’m not storming.” Laura practically threw the file at Carmilla as she passed. “I’m going to write this article without your help.”

“Please don’t do that.”

The door slammed as Laura left, and Carmilla quickly rang Perry. “Laura found the Vordenburg stuff,” she said as soon as the phone was answered.

“Oh darn.” Carmilla didn’t have the energy to make fun of Perry’s false swearing. “Did you explain about Ell?”

“Confidentiality. Perry, if she writes that article we’re fucked.”

“I’ll get Lafontaine to talk to her.”

//

“I can’t believe you’re taking their side!”

“I’m not. But Carmilla and Perry wouldn’t keep something from you if they didn’t have a reason.”

“That sounds a lot like taking their side.”

“Laura.”

“I don’t need protecting, Laf.”

“No one said you did.”

“They lied!"

//

Five months and twenty three days

Carm: Do you want me to bring breakfast or are you still mad?

The Wife: Still mad.

//

Five months and twenty two days

Carm: Can pastries make you talk to me?

The Wife: No.

//

Five months and twenty one days

Carm: I think you’re being unfair about this

The Wife: I’m not.

//

Five months and twenty days

Laura checked her phone in the morning to find she had no text. She was still mad, and by the time evening came around and she still hadn’t heard from Carmilla she was, for some reason, even madder. She wished she had taken Vordenburg’s file when she had left Carmilla’s office, but instead she was left with her own research and whatever she could remember from what she read.

Her phone rang just as she was about to turn in, and Carm on caller id brought a fresh wave of annoyance.

“I don’t want to talk to you.”

“Mrs Karnstein?” The voice was unfamiliar.

“Erm…”

“It’s Doctor Walker, from Queen Victoria Hospital. It’s about your wife.”