On the Edge

Slowly he came down. He blinked slowly in the near dark, and nuzzled his head against the side of her neck, kissing the spot where he had almost bit her. She made a small, content noise, still clinging to him. He rolled off to her side then pulled her into his arms. They were silent, catching their breath, and soon he reached to pull the covers over them, wrapping them in the warm comfort of each other.

He felt better than he had in years; relaxed and fully satisfied. Her closeness washed his body with hormones he had almost forgotten, and with them, feelings he hadn't felt in a long time. He wanted to say something, but while he was choosing his words, he drifted off to sleep.

He woke up when she stirred. They still embraced, and when she pulled away he could feel their sweaty skin clinging. She detached herself carefully, but didn't get out of bed. He gazed at her, and she smiled seeing he was awake. It wasn't an entirely happy smile, but it was a smile, and seeing it he realized he'd never seen her smile before.

"Hey, you," he said quietly.

"Hey," she said.

The gray light of a mid-winter day seeped through the window. Judging from the brightness he guessed it wasn't snowing anymore. He stroked the side of her face gently, cupped her cheek.

"You all right?" he asked. "I promised you I wouldn't hit on you."

"Well, I'm not alright, like, ever. But I don't mind. Just that I can't be with you, you know."

"Mmh."

He kept his hand on her cheek. She was serious. They held eye contact for a while.

"I don't expect you to be with me," he said. "I don't have anything to give anyone, either. I know."

She nodded, apparently satisfied with his answer.

The room was chilly. Andrew didn't know how late it was, but he felt like he had slept longer and better than in a long time. There was no pressing need to get up, so he just pulled Natasha close and enjoyed their warm, safe nest. She didn't seem to be in a hurry either. Andrew felt her slim body against his. It was effortless to be with her, linger in the moment.

Natasha stayed with him for four days. They didn't talk much, but their shared silences were easy, and they slept together each night. They didn't make love again; it seemed they had gotten over the most pressing need in one go, but they drew comfort from the other. Andrew got familiar with her body, which side she liked to sleep on, how it felt to search for the best position together. He cooked for them, and she ate everything he put in front of her without complaints but without much interest either.

George came to plow Andrew's road again before New Year's, and Andrew convinced him to clear Natasha's as well. After that, Natasha went back to her cabin, though they still visited each other daily, often sleeping together in her cabin or his. Natasha wanted to keep her distance, but she also seemed just as drawn to the comfort of sleeping together as he was. Sleeping better made him feel better, write more, and take more interest in his surroundings. Natasha seemed more relaxed, and Andrew thought she was maybe eating more too; she felt a less frail to hold as time went by.

—#—#—#—#—#—

At the beginning of January, Andrew and George took part in a winter fishing competition on a nearby lake. That year ice was thick enough to step on, so they each drilled their small holes and started jigging. George was cunning—he knew all the best spots—and their combined catch earned them the second place. George lamented the near loss, but Andrew was pleased as he drove back home. He let the unfamiliar feeling twinkle inside him, carefully examining it so that it wouldn't flee. He couldn't remember when he'd last felt something so peacefully positive.

Back home, he carried his fish-cleaning table to the shore, propping it up on the snow carefully. There were no seagulls in sight, and he wondered whether they'd appear or if he would have to dispose of the guts some other way. When he came back to shore carrying the knife and the bucket of fish, Natasha was waiting for him.

"Want me to do that?"

"Sure," he said. "Knock yourself out."

She took off her gloves, pushed up the sleeves of her jacket and began. She was as effortlessly brutal and precise as before, even though the fish were much smaller than the ones she'd cleaned earlier. She asked what he was cooking, and when he said he would fry them, she chopped the heads off and threw them into the pile of intestines.

He watched her work with fascination. She cleaned one fish, two, three, an eerie small smile twitching the corners of her mouth each time she ripped the stomach open.

Suddenly, she paused, put down the fish and the knife and stood still. She swallowed hard, and again, and then took three hurrying strides and retched violently onto the snow, trying not to touch anything with her fishy hands.

Andrew hurried to help her. "Hey, what happened?" he asked. "Did you eat something bad?"

He held her up, keeping her hair out of the way when she expelled one more load and stood hunched, spitting.

"I'll get the rest of the fish," Andrew said and turned her towards his cabin. "Come inside, wash your hands. You're not well, you need to rest."

Tasha nodded, and let him escort her inside. He went back to the beach to take care of the fish. When he was almost done, his motions halted almost as suddenly as hers had. He finally put two and two together, and it made him hot and cold and almost nauseated himself.

She was pregnant. They hadn't used any protection when they'd made love on Christmas night, and he had never once thought about it. Not during, not after.

Oh shit.

After he took the fish inside he washed his hands thoroughly. The smell was so hard to get off. It gave him an excuse to stall just a moment longer.

Tasha was laying on the sofa, her feet thrown casually over the back. He sat next to her rump, meeting her gaze.

"I don't know what that was," she said. "I feel like I'm coming down with something, but how, I can't say, I haven't even gone down to the village in a week or so."

"I have an idea about that," he said. He had a lump in his throat. "When did you last have your period?"

She shrugged quizzically, then froze when it hit her, too.

"Oh crap," she said. "Oh crap! Oh, fucking shit!"

She swung her legs down and sat up, next to him. He waited, but she didn't continue.

"That's what I thought," he said. "Want me to go buy a pregnancy test?"

"Yeah," she said slowly. "Yes, we better make sure. But now that you mentioned it, I think I already am sure."

He touched her back, and she turned to look at him. She looked stunned and terrified. He didn't know what to say.

"I'll be here," he said. "I'll be, hell, I don't know. I'll be what you want me to be. You're not alone in this."

She stared, and just when he started to feel like he'd said something stupid, she nodded.

They drove down to the pharmacy and bought two tests, just to be sure. On the drive back he took his other hand off the steering wheel to reach for hers, and she squeezed his in a death grip.

At the cabin, Tasha closed herself in the bathroom, angrily ripping the packet open on the way. She handed the test to him when she emerged.

"You keep that," she said, "I can't look, I'm too nervous."

"How long does it take? Two minutes?"

It was a long two minutes. Once he would've said it was the longest two minutes of his life but he'd had equally long ones with Lina's illness. Slowly a line formed in both of the little windows on the stick, the control pane and the one for the test result.

Tasha let out a frustrated shriek and started pacing the room. Andrew stood, staring at the stick, trying to come to grip with the new reality. He looked at her, the way she went back and forth like an anguished wild animal in a too-small zoo cage.

"I'm sorry," he said. "I should have known better."

She stopped and pointed her index finger at him. "Don't you fucking start with that shit!" She stabbed the air, punctuating the words. "I know how babies are made! I've done it before! Don't you fucking dare to patronize me like that! I'm responsible for my own actions!"

"Sure you are," he said, raising his palm in appeasement. "You're a remarkably independent person. Please, I didn't mean it like that."

She stared at him, then started to pace again. He set the test down on the table, afraid he would drop it otherwise. He felt weak, and sat down on the sofa, leaning back and focusing on his breathing.

"Please include me in this," he said. "You don't have any obligation to me, you understand. But I want to be with you in this."

She snorted and slumped down beside him.

"Oh, fuck," she said.

He risked wrapping his arm around her shoulders, and when she didn't object wrapped his other arm around her as well, pulling her into his lap. She was very tense, almost panicking.

"Tasha? Breathe with me for a minute," he said. "Calm down. I've got you. If you let me, I've got you."

He tried to be as calming as he could, breathing slowly, stroking her back with a heavy hand. Very gradually she relaxed, at least a little.

"Andrew?" she said finally, resting her head against him. "I can't kill it."

He breathed out. He hadn't noticed he was tense himself, but now he felt some dread leave him, something he had trouble identifying or naming. He wondered how to express it to her, how to express it to himself, and so he just kept stroking her.

"What about you? What do you think?" she asked, searching his eyes.

He met her gaze and leaned in to kiss her softly, before pulling her head back to his neck.

"I don't know, I'm kind of overwhelmed right now," he said. "I thought I'd never have children. With Lina, we wanted kids. We talked about it and thought of names and just dreamed, you know? But it wasn't the time, and when she first got sick it was ovarian cancer, so it was all over before it even began."

"Huh," she said. "I'm sorry."

"Yeah, so was I. But it was no use crying over what couldn't be. I thought it was a hard idea, but then of course I didn't know what was coming. I would've gladly grown old with her and have the childlessness be our worst hurt."

He paused, remembering back to his days with Lina. These memories always consumed him so easily.

"After she died," he said, "my life has been all but over. I have just given up on it all. And I think it's a monumentally bad idea for us to have a child, we're both so fucked up, and we aren't even together. I never would have done it on purpose. But now that it's happened? I'm not so sure."

He sighed again. It was a big thought, formless, frightening, but he was getting some basic hold of it now.

"I hope you let me do this with you," he said quietly. "I wanna help you. I'll do whatever you need me to do. I know I don't have much of a vote in this, but I'll support whatever you decide. And I would really want to be a part of the baby's life. Maybe even yours, if you'd want to try it with me."

"Just hold me," she said. "I can't handle this right now."

"Fair enough," he said. "And of course I will. For as long as you want me to."

He held her closer, and didn't let go, even as the fire burned low in the hearth.

—#—#—#—#—#—

Little Lina shrieked with joy when Andrew jerked the boat up to the trailer with her still onboard. Andrew smiled at her. She jumped over the side, nimble as a monkey and absolutely fearless. She waited for him to lift the fishing rod and lure box out, insisting she carry them, and walked in front as they started homewards.

"How are we preparing the fishes?" Lina asked. She was interested in everything about them since she had caught them herself.

"Probably smoke them," he said. "But you need to clean them first."

"Me?" Lina exclaimed. She took two little skipping hops out of sheer excitement. "Will you teach me how?"

"You better ask your mom," he said. "She's much better at it than I am. I can hold the baby, while you two are at it."

"The baby is too small to go fishing," Lina said, contemplating.

"Yes, he is," Andrew agreed. "You're such a big and strong girl already."

They walked a few steps in silence, a rare occurrence with Lina.

"What are you thinking, baby girl?" he asked, catching up with her so that he could look at her face.

"Is that what I am?" she asked, looking up at him through her hair, her expression so similar to her mom's.

"My baby girl?" he asked, and she nodded.

"Sure you are. You'll always be my baby girl, even when you're ninety and wrinkly and all gray," he said, tousling her hair with his free hand.

She giggled, then noticed Natasha, who stood by the gate with Nathan on her hip.

"Mom! Mom! Mom!" Lina shouted, "We caught so many fishes! Daddy says you'll teach me to clean them!" She started running, fishing rod swinging wildly.

It was a warm cloudless day. The sea stretched to the horizon, deep blue and glimmering silver in the sun. Seagulls were already waiting.

—#—#—#—#—#—

Author's note:

I dedicate the fish-gutting scenes to my fellow author SyleusSnow.

My sincerest thanks for my beta readers! You guys are the best.

This story is inspired by a song. The band is Finnish, called CMX, and the song is "Siivekäs". CMX is the greatest band in existence, which is probably hard for all of you who don't understand Finnish. As a consolation prize I'll include my translation of the song's lyrics below. They're quite poetic, and well beyond my translating abilities, so any mistranslations are mine.

———

When life is a long, sleepless night
I write the world into a home
Where you walk the narrow shoreline
between the land and the sea

As footsteps fade in the mud
Wants to get away from all the answers
You are terrifying like the flame of spring
You are beautiful like a tree in bloom

(chorus)
To the flow of sea currents
Or to the writing in the wind
Fly my mind, fly
You may go, I do not fear at all

And the right wing is white
And the left one is black
And the day is the gold of the Sun
And the night is cold and void of light
And the right wing is white
And the left one is black
Don't fall, look down
You spent long enough there, pondering
How to end it all

Quoting words of an old poet
Filled with defiance and beauty
I create a shore-length of white foam, you
Beautiful as a suffering god

I am tired of the countless words
I am tired of myself
If you told me to abandon all and follow you
I would leave it all and follow

(chorus)