Chapter Text
Serena never actually says the words. Just makes a fleeting, matter-of-fact comment. Like it’s an afterthought. Like it’s something Olivia had already known and not a bombshell piece of information.
We’ll need to do some rearranging in your room to make space for the crib.
It takes Olivia a moment to process what she’s just heard. But suddenly, the reason for Serena’s latest attempt at sobriety becomes clear.
There are a thousand questions racing through her mind, but she can tell from the way her mother doesn’t even look up from the newspaper that this is not something open to further discussion. And she knows better than to push a closed topic.
So Olivia just gives her a simple okay in reply, which seems like the indifferent response her mother had been hoping for.
In the months that follow, the lack of explicit discussion continues. In fact, Serena barely says anything about it all, just carries on as usual, like she isn’t growing an entirely new person.
It doesn’t escape Olivia’s notice that the sharp decrease of vodka bottles hidden throughout their shared apartment holds steady. In those months before the baby is born, her mother actually manages to stay sober for the longest period that Olivia can recall. But she knows from experience it won’t last.
Because it never lasts.
At first, Olivia is content to follow her mother’s lead on the matter—banishing all thoughts about what’s to come. But that becomes harder and harder as she watches her mother’s belly grow and the reality sinks in that the course of both their lives is about to change forever.
She figures out early on that the circumstances of this child’s conception are vastly different than her own, although this child’s father seems to also be a non-factor—just a nameless one-night stand and nothing more. She’s managed to glean from the few comments her mother has made that the baby is due in late January, just days before Olivia’s sixteenth birthday. She tries desperately to ignore the fact that her mother’s drunken decision to sleep with a nameless man might be connected to how triggered Serena typically gets in late spring—the time of year that Olivia had also been conceived. She hopes that her mother won’t hold that fact against this child—that Serena will in no way view this baby as an extension of Olivia and the worst night of her life.
That Serena will be able to love this child unconditionally.
But the first time Olivia holds her sister, it seems unimaginable that anyone could not love her unconditionally. Because this baby might just be the most beautiful thing that has ever been. She is small and pink and utterly perfect.
“What should we call her?” Serena asks with an unusual sincerity in her voice.
Her mother had said we—like she’s the second parent in this equation. At first, Olivia feels a swell of pride that Serena thinks highly enough of her opinion to even ask the question, but that’s quickly superseded by the realization that having equal weight in this decision likely won’t be the last time she fills the role of co-parent.
Olivia thinks first of Jane—Elizabeth Bennett’s kind, beloved, and, most importantly, innocent sister from Pride and Prejudice.
“Too plain,” her mother dismisses. “Perhaps for a middle name. No, for a first name, she should have something stronger.”
For once, she sees her mother’s point. Having Serena Benson for a mother will certainly require a fair amount of strength.
She continues to wrack her brain, running through all the names she can think of from her mother’s favorite novels and plays. Looking for something that feels special but will also appease Serena. She lands on King John and Eleanor of Aquitaine—a powerful queen with undeniable strength and bravery. It seems to fit the bill quite well.
“Alright,” Serena nods when Olivia voices the suggestion. “We’ll call her Eleanor—Eleanor Jane.”
She says the name in a gentle voice. But Olivia can’t help but imagine her mother shouting it in a fit of rage or slurring it after a bottle or two of vodka. She resolves in that moment to come up with her own special name for her sister. Something softer, that she can say the way others might use a term of endearment. A name that will never be said with hate or anger—that will only ever be said with love.
Nora, she thinks.
Little Nora.
In their first days as a family of three, Serena goes through the motions of mothering her youngest daughter but seems unable to do so with any real interest or enthusiasm. By the end of the first month, it’s clear to Olivia that the responsibility of making sure Nora feels truly cared for and loved will fall squarely on her shoulders. It’s a responsibility she doesn’t take lightly, and it’s a mantle she’s happy to take up. Because when this little baby snuggles into her chest, Olivia feels a kind of love that leaves her feeling whole and connected and happy in a way she never believed possible.
She also knows with complete certainty that she will do anything and everything to protect this sweet girl. Even from their own mother.