1.12. Long Shadows
They decided to get married barefoot, next to the sea. It might not have been the most pragmatic choice--even though it is summer, the breeze blowing off the water is chilly and bitter--but it certainly looks romantic
The vows are simple: “I take you to be my partner, to have and to hold, from this day forward, for better for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, until death do us part.” They are vows that thousands of couples have made. Not everyone means it, though. For some people, the concept of “until death do us part” is too far away to understand. Perhaps it’s the fact that she has seen death before, but Luna means it with every fiber of her being.
Luna can’t stop smiling as Quentin slides the wedding ring on her finger. He stumbles a little over the vows, obviously nervous even though there’s no one there to witness them. She’s nervous, too. It feels like a big step, even though functionally they have been living as man and wife for quite some time. The only thing that changes is the way they file taxes. Even their names aren’t changing—Quentin Parker is known in town as a musician, and Luna Bee is a world renowned author. Quentin Bee and Luna Parker sound like strangers. So, they keep their names.
“I don’t know why I have to be in a wheelchair. I can walk,” Crimson grumbles as she pushes him down the hall towards the elevators.
“Yeah, but the hospital is liable if you fall and break your neck. Besides, just because you can walk doesn’t mean you should. The doctor says you need to stay off your feet for a few more days until the sutures are ready to be removed.”
“If I’m supposed to stay off my feet, why are they releasing me?” Even the hospital is more alluring than the thought of going home to an empty house, full of furniture Clover picked out, clothes and makeup Clover wore, instruments Clover played.
“If you want, I can come by a couple of times a day and help you out around the house. It’s,” Elysia has a hard time saying the next part. She’s not good at being grateful, “it’s the least I can do.”
“Oh--I couldn’t ask you to do that.”
“It wouldn’t be a problem at all. I only work part time so I could come by before and after work,” Elysia is almost hoping he’ll say no, so she doesn’t have to keep trying to ingratiate herself with him. If she didn’t see him anymore, maybe she would stop feeling like this.
“Well, if you insist…”
“I’m not insisting so much as I’m offering.”
“And you’ll gently tend my wounds and from there, our relationship will bud from a hesitant but pure and innocent kiss?”
“Stop,” Elysia warns. He’s absolutely atrocious at flirting. It’s almost embarrassing.
“And then we fall deeply in love,” Crimson would never admit it, but he’s read his fair share of romance novels.
“I will dump you down the stairs if you don’t stop.”
“Sounds like a plan. Then I can sue the hospital.”
She stops the wheelchair at the elevator and presses the down button. An awkward silence ensues, prompting Crimson’s mind to wander. It’s something Elysia has gotten used to. His mind is a mess, with a million trains of thought departing at once. It’s difficult to read, but she occasionally catches a snippet of a thought, from the mundane to the existential. Right now, he’s excited about the prospect of spending time with her.
“What the hell was that about?”
“Nothing, I just--”
“You’re basically acting as my caretaker at this point. I’m pretty sure you shouldn’t take advantage of patients like this,” he teases her.
“Dude, don’t make this weird,”
“I’m not the one making this weird.”
“Well fine then. It’ll never happen again,” Elysia rolls her eyes. Crimson blushes as he looks down at his hands.
It will definitely happen again.
She has made the mercenary decision to write a fantasy novel, since they typically sell better than sci-fi novels. It would especially be a goldmine if it’s adapted into an HBO series, but she tries not to get her hopes up about that.
Pregnancy is hard, much harder than Luna expected. She has constant morning sickness, pooping is like one of Hercules’ trials, her breasts constantly feel like someone tit-punched her, and she has worse back acne than when she was a teenager. The one blessing is that she is sleeping better than she ever thought possible.
Before she had left the hospital, Dr. Jonsdottir discussed some natural ways to aid with Luna’s sleep, since she had been through such a traumatic event. It was unnecessary, though--she sleeps like a baby.
She rubs her stomach and smiles. Pregnancy is beautiful.
“Is that better,” he asks as he looks at his wife with adoring--if not slightly apologetic--eyes.
“Yes,” she says as he works out a particularly sore knot, “much better. I can’t wait until this thing,” she gestures angrily to her abdomen, “is out of me.”
“Eww, no,” Luna grimaces. She feels like an asexual beached whale at the moment.
“Just offering,” Quentin shrugs, trying too hard to act like he isn’t disappointed.
“I actually have something I want to talk to you about. Something we should probably plan for. I, uh, I finally decided to get an ultrasound and I think we’re going to need a little bit more room for the nursery than we initially expected…”
His heart sinks and soars at the same time.
“Quentin!” Luna calls from the porch, “Quentin, grab the hospital bag! I’m in labor!”
“I’m. In. Labor!”
They arrive at the hospital just in time. And fortunately, Quentin is there to witness his wife in the most disgusting moment of her life.
“Maternity ward is on the second floor,” Luna says in a daze. She holds in her arms her firstborn son: Luke Bee. Quentin follows with Luke’s twin sister, Lydia Bee.
***Author’s Note: I don’t know why I find it so funny when sims barf, but I do. I have probably two dozen pictures of Luna vomiting. Some of them are quite beautiful, I swear.
I did not know Luna was going to have twins before she did, so I had a crib in her office and I moved her easel on the front porch. I was so pissed when I had to add on another room for their dumb (adorable) babies.
I figured Luna would be the kind of woman to name her son after her father, and Luke was the first born. I had a moment when the second naming window popped up where I was like “I could totally name the girl Leia--I could do it. Just do it, Owly. Name her Leia.” But I didn’t. :c
PS I added a family tree to the blog.