Very joyfully spent

Author's note 2/6/2025: Been a minute since the last installment. Brutal couple weeks at work but rallied tonight to read through some more of that material I haven't touched in ages. Honestly from here things are pretty much a jumpy and uneven collection of unedited, frequently-disjointed little vignettes not even transitioned to each other, that just start and end abruptly. Unanchored bits and bobs. Some short. Some quite long. Some basically just character work where I was trying to capture their vibe at different ages and maturity levels but I was at war with myself about the macro plot at several different zoom out levels and kept struggling with the often incompatible story forks I considered. I'm trying harder than usual now to not actually write narrative for multiple candidate timelines. That's how you become George R. R. Martin, folks.

Anyway, this is very leap and skip and jump. Big plot things. Which are promptly not coherently addressed. New vignette follows that makes it pretty obvious what direction the previous narrative chunk hinted at, but fails utterly to explain how things got twisted around to make that course possible. I have a bunch of head canon that I haven't written out and am not sure I want to or should. I thought I could use it to strategically flesh out some more character work once I sort out my macro problems.

Heads up. This series of passages was a little tough to reread and I didn't feel like attempting any editing on this right now so I just pasted in the whole rest of the file to have it done with. In places it gets pretty existentially bleak.

===========================================================================

===29 Spring 1395 continued==========

By afternoon I’d been through the case files thrice over and was getting a bit bored. I'd only been sick twice more, which wasn’t fun, but wasn’t so miserable as to override how little I liked being cooped up. I hadn’t felt sick for several hours, and was waffling over whether it was irresponsible to go out and run some errands, if I wasn’t sure yet whether I had something catching, or had just eaten something yesterday that disagreed with me—when someone knocked on my door, startling me. It wasn’t quite late enough for Curry to be by, but who the hell else it could be, I had no idea.

I was flabbergasted to see, of all people, the guy who to my vague relief had turned out to be a one-and done after all, and whom I hadn't seen since that night at his place. “Hi, you,” I said, after looking first at empty space, then down at Roland where he was bent down setting something on the floor outside my door. He looked as startled as I was puzzled. “What brings you here?” I asked as he stood up.

“Sorry, I thought you’d be at work and I could just leave this for you and—uh, I actually have no idea why I even knocked. I guess I didn’t want your neighbors to think I was some creep.”

“I was feeling a little under the weather,” I explained. “I came home early. Why, what do you have?”

“Well. I know we haven’t reconnected again since—well, since,” he said, his cheeks reddening a bit, “but I was cleaning up the kitchen entryway this morning and I found this.” He reached into his pocket and drew out the little silver rook pendant, holding it out to me.

“Oh, my gods,” I gasped happily, “I can’t believe you found my necklace! Wherever was it?”

He flushed endearingly. “I realize that I’m… inviting rightful judgment by admitting this. But this morning was the first time I, er, raised the toilet lid in the kitchen water closet to clean under it. And I found where the chain must have broken and gotten snagged around the hinge with the pendant caught by the clasp. It seems like a miracle it didn’t get flushed, honestly.”

I rolled the little rook pendant in my fingers, suddenly outrageously happy to have it back. “Well, I guess praise Lord Rava, then,” I said, grinning dopily at him.

His mouth tugged up at one corner, then broke into a smile. “Well, I’m glad you’re not annoyed, is all.”

“How could I be?” I looked at the pendant, then back up at his warmly kind green eyes. “Wait, you said the chain was broken—you didn’t go and have it fixed, did you? You didn’t have to do that!” I pulled the chain over my head. “It was lovely of you to bring this here,” I said as I situated the pendant on my chest. “Curry’s nan gave this pendant to him, and he just gave it to me not even a whole season ago—I felt like such a shit losing it.”

“I felt sort of awfully responsible,” Roland said, clearing his throat self-consciously, “considering the whole reason you went without it this long is that I don’t clean my toilets sooner than every six weeks? I dropped it off to be fixed and then had my mum watch the shop while I went right to Marwick’s to find out if anyone knew where you lived so I could leave it for you.”

This made me laugh with delight. “Oh, my gods, you wonderful man,” I exclaimed, catching up his hand in mine and seizing on the folded paper he was holding. “Is this a note you meant to leave for me?”

“Er—” he said as I took it from him, “—maybe?”

“Fauzia,” I read aloud, ignoring that he’d spelled my name Fasia on the note, “I’m sorry to say I didn’t lay eyes on it sooner, but this morning I found your necklace somewhere we didn’t search and where I very much ought to have cleaned some weeks ago. I hope you’ll accept my apology for the delay, and my regards for an evening very joyfully, if inexpertly, spent.” I propped one hand on my hip and raised my eyes with vast amusement to where Roland stood half-wincing on my threshold. “Very joyfully spent, he says.”

The man flushed straight up into his hairline.

I couldn’t help laughing again. “Come in?”

“Well,” he hedged, “maybe just for a minute?”

It only took him a few kisses to stop half-protesting, when I pulled him, giggling, to my bed.

,,,,

“It occurs to me actually I’m the one who should be embarrassed at the state of my place,” I said when we separated a while later and lay panting on my unmade bed, at eye level with a pile of dirty clothes heaped embarrassingly on a chair, even though the laundry hamper next to my privy door was empty.

“What, for living like literally any bachelor?” Roland asked, dragging the back of his hand across his sweaty brow and giving me a humorously incredulous look. “I’m the one who didn’t find your important necklace for weeks because I don’t clean often enough.”

It was starting to look like my impression last time must be due to nerves on his part, because this time he’d shown me much less of the hesitation and shyness which had left me doubting his abilities last time. He’d risen in my esteem, and was a much funner partner this time around.

As reward for this unchauvinistic attitude about bachelor living, I twisted over and acknowledged his remark with another kiss, and then we both let ourselves linger in that kiss until I decided we might as well have another go. I had just curled my fingers around his stiffening cock again when there sounded a peremptory knock on the door and a key slid into the lock. “Oh, fuck,” I said, suddenly remembering Curry’s promise to bring me something brothy and un-pukeable. I sat straight up, cursing my apartment for not having any walls or doors. “Mag, wait! Do not come in yet!” I shouted. “Unless you want to see some shit you can’t ever unsee!”

I looked back to Roland, for some reason half worried how he would take this, but he just laughed.

“Uh… understood?” Curry called back from outside the door, sounding puzzled. “Just let me know when I can come in? Or… should I leave?”

“No, don’t leave! I’ll only be a minute!” I scrambled up from the bed and began looking for my bra. “Sorry!” I whispered to Roland, who had clearly got the idea that this encounter was over, and was already sliding one leg into his trousers. “In my enthusiasm over all this I sort of forgot he was going to come by after shift. Hence his appearance and lack of anticipation that the invalid to whom he’s ministering might be, uh, mid-assignation.”

“Do you want to, er, pretend we were up to something else?” he asked as he shrugged on his shirt, which made me laugh.

“I think that ship has sailed,” I told him. “It’s all right. Curry is well aware I’m an incorrigible slut.”

Roland’s cheeks flushed adorably. “Uh, well…” he said, then began looking for his socks so he didn’t have to have an opinion about that.

I reclasped my bra and pulled it around to the front, then leaned over and gave him another kiss. “Since we got interrupted, would you like a rain check on that second ride? Say, this weekend?”

He smiled, and the look was so full of simple, pleased affection that I couldn’t help thinking I was rather starting to like this odd man. “That would be really nice,” he told me. “I admit I’ve, er, thought about you a few times since that night, but gods, today was hands down so much better, wasn’t it?”

I grinned. “You weren’t tripping over yourself with nervousness this time. And I mean, I told you last time you have a nice cock. Well done, you.” I chucked him under the chin.

Roland laughed, then reached over and touched his hand to my cheek before moving to finish buttoning his shirt.

Curry refrained from comment when I came to the door with my conquest in tow, and merely said, “Roland, wasn’t it? Hope you’ve been well.”

For my part I managed not to laugh at the sight of Roland’s obvious relief that Curry’s arms were full with a grocery sack and that he wouldn’t be called upon to shake hands when in the rush to get dressed there had been no opportunity to properly wash up after our encounter.

I stepped just outside to give him a peck on the cheek and arrange our plans for the weekend, then went back in to where Curry was emptying the market sack on my little table. “So… I guess you must be feeling better?” he inquired politely, and I laughed.

“By mid-afternoon I hadn’t been sick for a couple hours. And then—” I reached into my shirt and triumphantly pulled out the little rook pendant. “He found your little rook, Mag! The chain broke and got snagged where he didn’t find it till he went to do some cleaning today, and then he took it to be fixed and went round to Marwick’s to find out where my place was.”

“That’s really nice, Fuzzy,” he said, then frowned a little. “We ought to tell Marwick’s though, that they can’t just let somebody know where you live.”

“Lena served us that one night. I figure she saw how we got on and thought it was all right.”

Curry made a noncommittal sound that meant he didn’t agree it was all right but also didn’t think it was worth getting into just now.

“I have to say,” I told him, “he did much better this time around. Either he was just full of nerves last time, or he has gotten a lot of experience in the interim weeks.”

Curry laughed. “Uh, congratulations? And I’m glad you stopped feeling sick. You probably just ate something that disagreed with you.”

“Are you busy tonight?” I asked. “What did you bring?”

“Not busy. I have some bread and cheese and cold sliced meat along with the broth.”

“Sounds grand. Thanks for doing that. And thanks for covering today.” Impulsively, I flung my arms around him and gave him a hug. “I should tell you more often what a good partner you are.”

“You tell me plenty enough.” Curry scuffed his hand over my hair, messing it up affectionately. “By the way, I noticed the other day you were almost out of cramp bark. Phomata's had it on sale so I picked some up while I was getting some ginger just in case you were still sick.”

For a moment my heart seemed almost to go still in my chest as it occurred to me that I’d been almost out of cramp bark for… a while now, and hadn’t remembered to go get more since I hadn’t had any cramps for… a while now.

“Fuzzy?” Curry was asking. “You all right?”

“I—uh,” I began, and then my breath caught, because I had just become pretty sure I hadn’t had my period since that time he’d been here with the curry buns, which was… some amount of time ago. What kind of dumbass was so ignorant of her own cycle she didn’t even know how long ago that was? “Sorry,” I managed, stumbling dizzily toward the bed in my shock, and sinking into a sitting position there.

“Fuzz?” Curry sat next to me, his expression concerned. “What’s wrong?”

Not ten minutes ago I had blithely, laughingly, told Roland how Curry was well aware of my indiscreet sexual habits, which was true, but I had never had so much as a brief scare before. I opened my mouth to explain what had suddenly got me so rattled, until I realized the explanation was: I had acted like a dumb, irresponsible slut, and the silphium I took for birth prevention had most likely failed me, and now it seemed I was done getting away with no consequences after years of carelessly immature conduct.

I looked up into Curry’s friendly brown eyes and for the first time I could recall, deliberately lied to his face. “Nothing, I’m a little dizzy suddenly is all,” I said in a small voice.

For a moment I thought he was going to call me on this bullshit, but instead he pressed the back of his hand to my forehead and frowned. “You’re a little warm,” he concluded. “Not fever-warm, maybe. Did you ever eat anything today? After you were sick?”

I shook my head.

“That’s probably all it is,” he said. “That and the, uh, exertion. Let me get you something.” He got up and went to the table, where he took a small loaf of bread from the bag and cut several pieces from it before unwrapping the cheese from its waxed paper and slicing some off. He made me a quick cheese sandwich with some grainy mustard from the little jar they’d given him, then handed it to me.

======================================================================================================

“But are you sure you have to go?” I asked Roland in a much smaller voice than I meant to, then sat there awkwardly resting my arms on my cumbersome belly while he folded clothes and packed them away in his travel satchel. “Now, I mean?”

He gave me a pained look. “I wish it could be different. But you know how the guilds are.”

I nodded glumly.

“You’re not due for another two weeks,” he reminded me. “Everything’s going to be fine. I’ll be back in plenty of time.”

I nodded again.

“Oh, honey.” He stopped what he was doing and sat down next to me on the bed. “I wish I could help you worry less, poor love,” he said sympathetically., which only made me feel worse because I had never been a worrier before. The ability to maintain a baseline level of feeling secure in the world must be another of those other things pregnancy had carved away from me.

He put an arm around me and I narrowly held back a foolish sob. Roland had been reassuring me for the last two days, since being asked to speak at this event, that the baby would not arrive while he was gone, and I felt bitchy for not believing him, and selfish for wanting him to give up the mortuary guild advocacy agenda he’d been working on for the last three years. In terms of seniority, this initiative far outstripped me.

All the same, I’d barely slept the last two nights, fretting about it. I didn’t like what a coward the prospect of childbed had made me. I’d heard horror stories, everyone had probably, about how not everyone who fared poorly was eligible for recall. Apparently childbearing was bad enough that if one died doing it, the priests weren’t always successful coaxing one’s spirit to return to the vessel of its final physical torment. My anxiety about this had mounted, the nearer I came to term, and this week neither he nor Curry had been able to set me at ease on the matter.

“Maybe Magnus could come stay with you while I’m gone. Would that make you feel any better? I’ll ask him, if you like.”

“No, I will,” I said, trying to conceal my dull resignation.

,,,

I was poor company all evening after Curry came home with me after our shift. I had a vague bellyache, accompanied by an upset stomach for the last day and a steady, dull pain in my back. By bedtime I was so eager to collapse that I simply pulled the covers over myself and strove for some semblance of not-discomfort. But when I woke some hours later, with a subdued sense of dread, feeling no better, with a rhythmic pain plowing through me at intervals no matter how long I laid there wishing it would go away and wait until my husband was home, I knew I’d been kidding myself.

I allowed myself an outraged moment of self pity before I mustered the energy to get my legs over the side of the bed. Partway through I had to pause to grit my teeth through a wrenching pain that set my eyes watering.

Curry didn’t stir when I pushed the door open to the spare room, and when I shook him awake he stared up at me in puzzlement for a second before getting his bearings and asking, “Do I need to go fetch somebody?”

Embarrassingly, or maybe not, actually, since everyone agreed childbearing was terrible and I was not very excited to get on with it, I burst into tears. “I think yeah,” I whimpered, and then closed my eyes and curled my fists into the bedclothes to ride out the next painful wave. Curry sat up and set one hand over mine and smoothed his other hand over my back, somehow sensing the only places on my body I could bear to be touched. “I don’t want to do this, Mag,” I whispered in sudden despair. “I don’t even want a baby,” I said, with useless, frightened tears creeping back into my voice. “How did I ever let myself get talked into this?”

Curry leaned over and kissed me on the head. “I think that ship has sailed, Fuzzy,” he said, giving my hand a bracing squeeze, and then he was up and pulling on his trousers. “You’ll come through just fine,” he said, managing to be a bit more convincing than Roland. “I genuinely believe that. And I know you'd rather have your husband, but I’ll be here with you.”

I didn’t get to tell him that actually I’d much rather have him, and if he thought otherwise it was probably just that in principle I thought Roland really was obliged to be here, because another wave of crampy pain cascaded through me before I could. For the first time I thought I really truly understood how Curry had felt that time he had fever and I wanted to go to the temple for help but he had begged me not to leave him.

Instead of begging, I set my jaw and leaned on the spare bed while he shrugged into his shirt. Anyway, everyone said most people shat themselves during labor, and if that had to be, I’d rather have a midwife already experienced with and resigned to such atrocities, rather than the person with whom I spent most of my waking hours.

=====================================================================================

“You have a little daughter,” the midwife said in a voice that made it clear I was supposed to be pleased with this development. So instead of crying about it, I let her give me the horrid, wrinkled little creature I had hosted in my belly for the better part of a year.

I didn’t know what to think of this puckered, red-faced thing, which began to wail when I took it, stiffening unhappily in my arms as if I were hurting it. Distantly, I knew I wasn't supposed to think of my baby as an it, but this keening, writhing grotesque was impossible to think of as human. The midwife gave me a perplexed look, the meaning of which I couldn’t discern. She was the one who'd shown me how to hold it!

Curry came to my rescue, taking the baby from me and holding it close to him in the cloth the midwife had wrapped it up on. “Look at you, little one. Of course you’re pissed,” he soothed. “Getting born is pretty tough, yeah?” The baby quieted down immediately. “But it was tough for mama, too,” he told it. “Did you know in the start we thought she just had a little stomach bug? But it turned out to be you. That bug turned out to be just a little baby!”

I turned onto my side so he wouldn't see me heaving with silent sobs about how the baby I hadn’t ever wanted in the first place also didn’t want me.