Two Old Friends

Chapter 17

"Would you want to do it again?" Adriana asks.

"No," I say. She raises her eyebrows.

"Why?"

"Would you?" I retort. "After all that mess, all the fighting, all the drama. I really would not want to live that again. Yes, we had good times, but we were very immature with our situations and that hurt us. I would not want to live that immaturity again."

"Huh. Interesting. You see, for me, for everything I had to be mature, I couldn't possibly do anything and be immature or selfish, I had to make difficult decisions and face difficult issues. It was with you I felt I was allowed to be immature."

"Why would you say that? I would have loved it if you had been a little bit mature."

"I felt that since you were so immature with me I was allowed to be immature with you. You might think that you're so intuitive and full of wisdom or whatever it is that goes through that head of yours, but I know you know that I had my own issues and didn't want to discuss them so you saw me as a half thing and you didn't mind that. You didn't mind me being only half because that meant you didn't have to delve into my other half and get all that sifted through because that would have made us both uncomfortable and neither of us wanted to be uncomfortable.

"But, in the long run, keeping ourselves comfortable has only caused our uncomfortable problems and neither of us had the balls to tell the other. We lacked communication. We both knew the problem, neither of us wanted the other to know the problem. And that was the main problem right there. Even though we both knew each other better than anyone or anything else, we didn't trust each other. Though, personally, I think I trusted you more than myself... I just didn't want you to know it. And I didn't want to know that you trusted me, because then that would give me more responsibility than I wanted."

I think on what she says. She's right. I could have easily said all of this, but it only proves what she says. We have the same mind and the same insecurities and neither of us are the exception to each other's inner-battles. I sigh, impressed with her perception and in relief that I wouldn't have to argue with myself to make this point or not. Adriana smiles at me, reading my expression.

"I think we treated each other as a very long one night stand. We were very good to each other physically and in passing, but when it came to out right loving each other, then we thought of ourselves, first. What was your excuse for it?"
"I think you pinpointed it. I knew you had your problems, but you kept them to yourself and that was how I preferred it. As long as you didn't mention them, I didn't have to care and I could spend more time dealing with my own. Yours?" I say smoothly.

"I used Rosa as my excuse. I figured that since Rosa never really openly liked you, I could blow you off for Rosa's well being."

I smile to myself and look at the scratched table.

"I wonder what we would have acted like if we knew each other under different circumstances - without abusive families, without the Dark Lord, without Hogwarts and Dumbledore..."

"Without everything that brought us together?" Adriana asks amusedly. I stop and look up at her, my mouth still open. I hesitate and then close it with a smart smirk.

"I guess we wouldn't have given each other another look, huh?"

"Well, who knows. I would have been in Spain, or I would have stayed there when I was a girl. Maybe I'd decide to explore Europe. We might see each other in a bookstore. I'd glance at you, you'd probably be trying to slyly look at my ass or something" (I snort at this) "and then I might look over at your section and check out what you're reading. I'd ask what your book was on..."

"I'd show you the cover and continue reading," I interject. Adriana smiles.

"And then I'd strike up a conversation about it, because it would probably be something intellectual and reasonable, express how I was always more of a philosophical reader or read things that took you away from the real world and appreciated art and or moral tales of excitement and thrill."

"I'd mention how simple minded you must be."

"I'd snort, be slightly offended, explain to you my mother's origin and reflect on her ways of comforting me through life's issues by telling me a story her mother used to tell, which used to be tribal stories, by the way."

"I'd ask you what tribe, rather sceptically, I might add."

"I'd tell you that my grandmother was from an indigenous Mexican tribe and that I couldn't pronounce the name to you in anyway. But I wouldn't mind going someday and visiting."

"I'd ask you what you were doing in Spain to begin with."

"I'd tell you that my mother fell in love with a Spanish tourist."

I smile right then and there. I feel that my heart is swelling, despite how cliché that sounds. I feel myself falling in love with this theoretical Spanish-Mexican tourist and I can tell how this would end.

"You'd coerce me into taking you out to coffee. We'd talk and make sarcastic remarks to one another. I'd ask you how long you were staying in where ever it is we were."

"I'd tell you that I'd be staying for only another day."

"I'd ask you where you were going after visiting."

"I'd tell you that I'm going to Mexico to visit my abuela."

"You'd then offer to rent a room at a hotel and fuck me silly and then I'd be forced to go with you to Mexico because there would be no way in hell I could possibly give up the opportunity to possibly sit with you again." Adriana laughs.

"And then someone would ask us why you were there, the English man with the awful Spanish accent, and you'd say--"

"Because I fell in love with a tourist."

~*~

So, by the end of February, we had the baby room set back up. Rosalyn's things were rearranged to one side of the room and on the other side there was the living room cot and untouched baby get ups. I would often stand in the room and try to get used to the idea of having a son, but I often left the room feeling panicky or exhausted. Or I would be sent out of the room because Rosalyn didn't like me leering.

February came along and Adriana went to Penelope's appointment and found out that she cancelled the appointment because of some last minute affair. Adriana's stomach was swelling at six months old and she often complained of back problems. She might have also had back problems because she wanted to carry Rosalyn everywhere, still, but the scroll suggested that she didn't do any heavy lifting. So she had to push Rosalyn in a stroller everywhere and she absolutely hated it.

"Hey Severus," Adriana greeted while I worked at the bookstore.

"What are you doing here?" I asked.

"My appointment was cancelled. But that's okay, I didn't really want to go anyway."

"Aren't you supposed to avoid moving around?" She ignored my comment.

"I thought about buying Rosalyn a picture book or a colouring book or something for being so good," she told me while she unstrapped Rosalyn from her stroller.

"That sounds exhilarating," I said. I looked at Adriana while she straightened up from letting Rosalyn loose.

"You look awful, you shouldn't be here," I told her. She shrugged and put her hands on the small of her back and stretched.

"It comes with being pregnant. Where's your children centre?" I pointed to the back of the store where it said in big blue letters 'Children's Centre' surrounded with dancing stick figures.

"Rosa," Adriana called and took her by the hand. They sauntered off to the Children's Centre. I watched them go, a little worried for Adriana. When she was pregnant with Rosalyn she wasn't nearly as tired as she was with this one. I decided that it must be different for different times and went back to work.

March rolled around and we didn't hear from Penelope. Adriana started to get a little scared, but she decided that it couldn't be too bad. Women had been giving birth since the beginning of time, so what did she need Penelope for? I decided that it was none of my business, so I stayed out of it. But I most definitely didn't think that I could be much help if Adriana started giving birth on the kitchen table. But, then again, men had been lurking in the background rather uselessly while women have been giving birth since the beginning of time, so I couldn't have been too bad off.

March thirteenth, Adriana had been feeling rather odd. She complained about cramps and feeling bloated. I suggested that she go to St. Mungo's and she had eventually agreed into going. We found out that she was in labour.

"What?" she demanded. "I'm only seven months along!"

"It might be false labour, but until we know for sure you are going to be put in the maternity ward." She was wheeled into the maternity ward where she got to lie in a bed and take potions to cease the pain.

"Severus," she whispered hoarsely, "I'm scared."

"I'm not surprised," I told her.

The next morning at around three o'clock my son was born. He refused to come out naturally so they were forced to cut into her abdomen and pull him out that way. It was very messy and unattractive and I spent most of the time concentrating on the floor. I would have preferred to be in the waiting room, but Adriana refused to let go of my hand. He had a head full of curly black hair and he was unfortunate enough to have my nose. It would have been a time to celebrate, but well after he was born there was still much panic. They took him away, fixed up Adriana, and she immediately straightened herself up and expected to hold him, but there was still a team of healers around him. Adriana tried to look over to see what was going on, but she couldn't see anything. She looked up at me, her face tear stained, as though expecting an answer. I shrugged.

"What's wrong with my baby?" she asked them. "Why can't I hold him?" No one answered. There was muttering and random exclamations of "Are you mad? You can't perform that charm!" or something to that effect. I hadn't noticed that my hand had lost all feeling in it and that Adriana was still clutching onto it for dear life, I was just as curious to know what was going on.

After an hour of muttering, a healer finally came over to talk to us.

"Your child was born prematurely," he said solemnly.

"He isn't dead?" Adriana asked.

"No, he's not dead, but he isn't entirely developed. He needs to be kept here for a few weeks to keep him warm and to make sure that he will remain alive. We think that his mind isn't fully developed and it's quite possible that he will remain mentally retarded for the rest of his life. We will know for sure after observing him over the next week."

"When will we be able to bring him home?" Adriana asked.

"Maybe as early as next Tuesday. Maybe as late as early April. You, on the other hand, Miss Rodriguez, should stay here a little longer and rest. We want to make sure that the labour didn't hurt you anymore than expected." Adriana nodded silently.

"Can - can I see the baby?" she asked feebly.

"Not right now, you need your rest. We will transport you to another ward. I reckon maybe later after you get some sleep you will be able to see the baby." Adriana must have been exhausted because she didn't argue. We went to the ward and Adriana made herself comfortable. We were left alone and we remained silent for a few minutes. After perhaps ten minutes Adriana spoke.

"You should go," she told me. I didn't answer. "You need to go home. Rosa might be scared."

"She isn't much better off with me." Adriana shrugged.

"Just, please, go." I didn't argue. So I stood up and left the hospital and went back home. When I came home, Birdie was fast asleep in Rosalyn's room, rocking the cot Rosalyn was sleeping in. I yawned and went to bed myself.