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To say that today's been a hard day is an understatement, but it really is no different from any other day of the week. You woke up at 6am, you took a quick, cold shower, you had a coffee, you drove to the hospital, you worked for five hours straight before taking a break to eat a sandwich from the hospital cafeteria, along with another coffee. You worked until 3 pm, meaning your shift was already over.
But, of course, last minute surgeries kept happening and you gave up on demanding that your boss hired more surgeons long ago, choosing to work the extra hours. Not because you need the money, which you certainly don’t, but because being at work takes your mind off of coming home to an empty bed, a cold dinner in the fridge, and a daughter who wants nothing to do with you. You are about to take your fourth cup of coffee when Jaha, who's just decided he wants to become friend of the year, cuts you off and sends you home threatening to tie you to a bed himself if you don't obey.
You've been working for more than fourteen hours now, so you don't find it in yourself to fight him.
The drive back home is silent, you never turn on any music and tonight is no exception.
(You think that maybe the silence is kind of a punishment.)
You're not in the mood to have dinner but the doctor in you tells you that you're eating habits are unhealthy enough as they are, and so you force yourself to look inside the fridge for something edible. There is a box of leftover pizza and you think you really should have a talk with Clarke because her eating habits aren't that much better than yours, but you feel as if you lost any right to parent your daughter the minute you stopped acting like a mother.
You don't bother to heat the slices of pizza, you eat them cold and make an effort to swallow.
It's only when you decide it's time for you to go to bed that you realise you hadn't even turned the lights on.
(The stairs are hard to climb, and with each step you feel how weary you really are.)
You hesitate before going into your room. It's a cold night and Clarke always rolled over while sleeping when she was a kid. You want to make sure that your daughter has a good blanket wrapped properly around her body so that she doesn't get cold in her sleep.
You open the door of her bedroom carefully so as not to wake her and you take a peek inside, something your eyes have no struggle with since Clarke has always like to sleep with the curtains open and that makes it easy for the street light to light up the room a little bit.
But instead of your daughter in her bed, you find two silhouettes, one of them Clarke’s, the other the body of a complete stranger.
A complete stranger who's in your daughter's bed, naked.
With your daughter, naked.
The stranger is a girl, a naked girl.
A girl who has her bare arm wrapped around your daughter's bare stomach and her head on the crook of your daughter's neck.
A girl who is laying on your daughter's bed, holding her.
Naked.
Your heart is beating faster that it has in a while. You think that maybe is your lack of sleep that is making you see things. But the image before you is real.
You've also noticed all the clothes covering the floor, which were probably thrown away wildly at some point during the night.
A chill runs through your spine when you take another look at the pair in the bed. Despite the February weather, the blanket only covers them up the waist.
(You feel a little grateful for that.)
The next morning, when your alarm clock goes off at 6am, you decide to call in sick. You take a long, hot shower and you go downstairs to make some orange juice and some pancakes.
You're about to start eating breakfast at when some noises catch your attention. You can hear the sound of giggles and feet running, your daughter's blonde hair appearing at the end of the stairs, with the stranger from last night.
Good thing you picked the spot at the kitchen table where you have a perfect sight of them, right?
Or maybe not so much, considering that with the unknown girl at the bottom of the stairs, and your daughter at the very last step (which makes her slightly taller than the other girl), both looking into each other's eyes, they haven't even noticed you, yet.
"So... you're completely sure there's nothing I can do to get you to have breakfast with me," Clarke says, grabbing the collar of the other girl's jacket.
The girl smirks, taking her hands to Clarke's back.
"Well, I had plenty of breakfast already," she says, and you can't help wanting to punch her in the face even though she's a kid and, after catching them naked last night, you didn't exactly think that all they were doing was holding hands.
Clarke giggles softly. She's giggling. She only ever did that when you used to catch her and Jake up to something suspicious.
"I wish you could stay," she says.
You take your eyes off them when Clarke leans in to kiss her.
"I wish I could stay, too."
There's more kissing and this time you don't miss the way the stranger's hands travel down your daughter's back to places she shouldn't be touching.
And you certainly don't miss the way Clarke moans and tugs the girl closer.
(You really wish you had, though)
You're just about to storm outside the kitchen and give a piece of your mind to this girl who thinks she has the right to come to your house and touch your daughter as she pleases.
Then, the girl pulls back from the kiss, she gently bumps her nose with Clarke's and she whispers, so softly that you almost can't hear it, "I love you, Clarke."
And as Clarke smiles and says, "I love you, too," your world comes crashing down a little.
Or maybe a lot.
You don't listen to their goodbyes, instead you make yourself busy with your breakfast.
It's almost comical that your seventeen-year-old daughter jumps and grins from ear to ear as she walks into the kitchen, just like she used to do when she was younger and Jake would cook her her favourite meals.
She stops dead on her tracks when she sees you, and the look of pure fear her face has adopted is the same one you always wished would never cross your child's face.
"Good morning, Clarke."
"Wha- what, mu-mum... Why aren't y-you in work? How long have you been here?" she asks, and it breaks your heart.
"Sit down, honey. I made pancakes."
It takes a while before she finally moves and sits, facing you. Her mouth hangs open the whole time.
"Look, I..." she says, "I just... That was only..." she stops trying to talk and fills her mouth with pancakes instead.
"Do you like them?"
She nods.
"I'm glad. It's been a while since I last made breakfast, I was afraid I had lost my touch."
She shrugs and says nothing, her eyes fixed on her plate.
"It's a shame your friend couldn't stay for breakfast, isn't it?"
She clenches her jaw and drops her fork.
"Her name is Lexa," she says, finally looking at you, "And she's not my friend, she's my girlfriend."
Girlfriend.
"Oh. How long have you been dating her?"
Clarke blinks. She's suddenly looking at you like you grew a second head.
"Uh... About three months."
Three months, your daughter has being seeing someone for three months and you just found out by chance. Your heart sinks a little bit further.
"That's... nice," you swallow.
Neither of you say another word and you can feel your blood pumping through your whole body at the thought of this conversation ending. It's the longest you've had a talk with your daughter in several months.
"Do you know her from school?"
"No. Lexa goes to Polis."
"Oh, okay."
Clarke gets up to pour herself some coffee. She comes back to the table, sits down and looks at you hesitantly.
"Mum?" you can feel the trembling of her voice.
"Yes, Clarke?"
She fidgets with her mug before taking a big sip and returning her attention to you.
"So... you don't care? That she's a girl? That I have a girlfriend?" she asks.
You blink in surprise, because you had been so worried about discovering that your daughter has had a relationship for months, without telling you anything about it, that the thought of her lover being a female hadn't even sunk in yet.
You notice the anxiety in Clarke's eyes, you've heard a few stories before and you wonder if maybe one of the reasons she didn't tell you was because she feared your reaction. She feared that you'd be disgusted. She feared that you'd stop loving her.
You could never stop loving Clarke.
(You know you haven't been doing a good job to assure her of the opposite, though.)
"No, honey. That would never make a difference to me," you say softly.
You hold your breath when she nods and clears her throat, obviously relieved.
"But just so you know, I'm not gay. Not that it would be a problem if I were, but like, I still like boys. And girls, too."
You smile gently when she bits her lip nervously because she reminds you so much of Jake that it's an almost painful sight to watch.
"That's good. That's really good, sweetheart."
She tells you she's going to go get ready for school and you ask her if she needs a lift there.
"Yeah, I'd like that, mum," she says, "But why aren't you at work?"
"I decided to take a day off."
"Okay, cool."
You are determined to start being a real mother to Clarke again. You don't know if her favourite food is still spaghetti. You don't know how she's been doing at school recently. You haven't heard about any of her friends in a while, only seeing Bellamy's car the few times you've been home when he has dropped her off. You had come across a few clothes which probably belonged to Octavia when doing laundry and some of Jasper or Monty's DVDs were in the living room.
(Or at least you hope they are theirs, because as much as you love your daughter, you won't let her watch those TV shows full of medical errors.)
Hell, you just found out that your teenage daughter is on a stable relationship.
You don't know anything about her anymore, and that's going to change.
It's a little bit harder than you expected to make sure your boss understands your decision to cut down your hours and spend more time at home, but he ends up giving in since he needs to agree to your terms if he wants to keep you at all. And you're one of the most experienced doctors in New York, so.
You're hanging up when you hear a motorcycle parking outside, you peek through the curtains to see Clarke jumping off of it and holding the helmet she was wearing against her body. The other girl, Lexa, mirrors her.
She reaches out to tuck some of Clarke's hair behind her ear.
(You refuse to growl. Not because you lack the desire to, but because you haven't forgotten you're a civil human. Besides, you need to remember that Clarke's her own person and this is not your call to make.)
Taking a deep breath, you step outside the house and get the attention of the two girls, who stop their conversation as soon as they notice you.
"Good evening," you say, "I'm afraid we haven't met before. I'm Abby, Clarke's mother."
Lexa doesn't hesitate to shake your hand when you extend it. Her grip is firm but gentle, and she makes eye contact with you as she says, "Nice to meet you, Mrs Griffin. I'm Lexa, Clarke's girlfriend."
"So I've heard."
Clarke clears her throat and you look at her and her raised eyebrow. (That's one of the few things she gets from you and not from Jake.)
"I was wondering if you'd like to have dinner with my daughter and me this evening. I cooked lasagna."
Clarke gasps at you, surprised, and you totally deserve that reaction, even if it hurts.
"Uh, yeah, I would like that very much," she answers, "As long as Clarke is fine with it, of course," she adds, glancing over your speechless daughter.
You narrow your eyes at the girl because she's not making this being intimidating thing any easier for you.
Clarke finally speaks, if barely a whisper, "Oh my god. Okay, I guess. This is already awkward enough as it is, anyway."
The three of you set the table in silence. You ignore the questioning glances Clarke sends your way. They sit next to each other, facing you, and you take a long sip of your glass when you realise that only one of Clarke's hands is on the table.
You wonder where this girl, who compliments your food after the first bite and refuses to call you by your first name no matter how many times you tell her to do so, comes from.
"So Lexa, is that a short for Alexandra?"
"Alexandria, actually," she gives you a smile, "Alexandria Woods."
"We met at one of Bellamy's parties," Clarke says, much more relaxed.
"So you're on your last year too?" Lexa nods. "You're planning on going to college?"
"I'm planning on doing a double degree in Law and Politics. "
Well, now, that is interesting. You tell her that.
"Don't let her motorcycle give you the wrong impression," Clarke says. "She's a big student body president kinda nerd."
Maybe it's the way they stare at each other, forgetting about you for a moment, or the way Clarke kisses her cheek softly and both of them blush when they seem to remember your presence.
Maybe it's a mixture of all of it that makes you smile genuinely.
You have to wave Lexa off three times when she offers to help you clean up, and you're convinced that she only accepts your refusal for her help because Clarke grabs her arm and leads her to the couch.
You finish in the kitchen and walk in on them kissing and talking into each other's ears.
You ignore your daughter's death glare when you sit yourself between the two of them and show Lexa every photo album that you have of your daughter as a child. There are eleven of them, but instead of complaining, she points at different photos eagerly while Clarke pouts and covers her face with her hands.
It's late by the time you've finished, even though your heart beats loudly while you do so, you suggest Lexa stays the night instead of driving home in the middle of the night. As long as her parents are okay with it, of course. It's worth it when Clarke beams at you.
It's even more worth it when she hugs you goodnight for a few seconds before taking Lexa's hand and leading her to her room.
For the following weeks, Wednesday night dinners have become sort of a tradition between the three of you.
You learn that Lexa is a really good cook and Clarke loves annoying her whenever she's focused on her cooking.
You learn that, the first time they met at one of Bellamy's party, Lexa offered to tutor Clarke when she mentioned that she didn't understand a thing her Business teacher said. That's odd, you think, because Clarke doesn't usually have any trouble at school. Her blush and Lexa's grin tell you there's more to that story. They're young, you roll your eyes.
You learn that Clarke is in two minds about studying to become a doctor or studying Art.
You learn that Lexa's parents are away on business quite frequently, and that she practically lives with her older sister, Anya, and her husband; and despite having a wonderful relationship with her sister and her brother-in-law, some days are a little bit more difficult for her than others.
You learn that Octavia really likes Lexa, though she makes gagging noises whenever the couple get lost in their own world.
You learn that Clarke loves Lexa and Lexa loves Clarke. And that is more than enough for you.
(You learn that those DVD's were, in fact, Jasper's and that Lexa kept teasing your daughter because Clarke couldn't help it but to huff in annoyance whenever someone got medical facts wrong.)
"Go make me a sandwich."
"Why don't you go and make me a sandwich?"
"Because I gave you three orgasms last night."
"And I'll give you none tonight if my stomach is hurting from starvation."
"Rude."
You roll your eyes because coming home from work to find similar scenes has become a routine. One that tends to be somewhat unpleasant. You try not to think about it, since you’re glad they understand safe, consensual sex, but Clarke's still your teenage daughter.
(You stole yourself a few earplugs from the hospital some weeks ago.)
You go to the kitchen and make them sandwiches, and really, how can these more adult than children people light up so much with the concept of food?
One day, when Clarke and you are doing some grocery shopping for her birthday party (she's turning eighteen in three days and that really, really scares you), she asks something that almost gives you a heart attack.
"Hey, mum?"
"Yeah?"
"When did you know you wanted to spend the rest of your live with dad?"
A part of you is screaming irrationally, because you know there's a reason she's asking you this. But a much more bigger part of you is crying of happiness because your daughter, who a few weeks ago wouldn't trust you enough to tell you about her life (not that you blame her, because you don't, at all), is now confiding you with this matter.
"Well, that's a difficult question, sweetie," you say.
She bites her lip and focuses her eyes on different kinds of yoghurt.
You sigh, "I guess I just kind of knew one day. I knew that I couldn't let go, because I had finally found something worth holding onto forever, whatever happened. And that has only happened twice in my whole life."
"When was the second time?" she asks.
"The day you were born," you answer, and her eyes are so blue and innocent that you find yourself coming back to that day again, nearly eighteen years ago.
Her voice snaps you back to reality again, "Mum?"
"Yes, Clarke?"
"I'm kind of sure I want to spend the rest of my life with Lexa."
She sounds so scared, so innocent, so, so truthful, and with so much love that you need to fight back tears.
"That's really good, honey."
Clarke insisted that you stayed for the party and how could you have possibly refused?
You kind of wish you had, though, because being surrounded by children you've watched play hide and seek now playing a ridiculous thing involving beer and ping pong balls while intoxicated, well, it's highly disturbing.
You watch as your daughter and Octavia dance, Monty takes over the music, Monroe and Bellamy beat everyone at that beer game, and Lexa holds a conversation with that Raven girl you met a few days ago. Neither of them have drunk a lot and it makes you smile that "they're trying to keep their cool", as Bellamy put it a few hours earlier. He definitely doesn't care about "his cool".
It's not everyday that you see Lexa being shy, since she doesn't hide herself from you anymore, and you can't help but to think that maybe she's trying to make a good impression on Clarke's friends.
Good impressions are not in your daughter's agenda, apparently, seeing as she's pouring herself and Octavia yet another drink.
They walk up to where Lexa and Raven are and you are close enough to them to hear their conversation. Unfortunately.
"Heeey, baby! Do you know what I just realised?" Clarke says, leaning on Lexa.
"What, babe?" "We've never had drunk sex! Come on quickly we need to change that!"
Lexa blushes and Raven grins loudly.
"Duhhh, I want to get laid, too! Raaaaven, let's go you'll see how comfy Clarke's bed is!"
Okay, so maybe that explains Bellamy's apparent dislike towards Raven.
"Octavia, you can't have sex on my bed."
"Why not? You do it all the time."
"Yeah, cause it's my bed."
Two hours later, everyone has gone home. Bellamy, Octavia and Raven have managed to fall asleep together on your couch, however uncomfortable that looks, and Lexa has taken a sleepy Clarke upstairs.
You throw a blanket over the three of them and go to bed.
When you wake up the next morning, you go to the kitchen and you wink at Lexa and Raven upon finding Clarke, Octavia and Bellamy more sleep than awake and wearing sunglasses indoors.
You order pizza for lunch because they made an effort to wake up before you did so they could clean up, and they are really good kids. They don't have to try very hard to talk you into binge watching Netflix with them.
(When some One Direction song is featured in the episode you're watching and Clarke mutes the TV, Bellamy uses a pillow to slap her in the face until she lets him listen to the song and yeah, they're really good kids.)
Clarke comes home crying one day. She keeps crying for hours and cries harder when you ask her what happened. She falls asleep in your bed, with her cheeks still wet.
Octavia comes over the next day with a lot of ice cream and every Harry Potter film and you call the school to let them know that they caught a virus and, as a concerned professional, you forced them to stay home.
It's been three days and you still have no idea of what caused this, but Lexa's not been around since that day, which is worrying. Yes, they've had arguments before, but all of them ended as easily as they started and were often about little things such as distracting each other from studying, whose turn was it to pick the film, whether that Delphine character from some TV show they watch is good or evil...
Whatever has happened this time around must have been pretty big if they're taking this long to make up. And as much as a grumpy Clarke can make you want to laugh, she's also being crying and zoning out lately and you just want it to stop, or to at least gathered some information so you can help them.
You don't have to wait too long to find out, as Lexa shows up on your doorstep during their fourth day of fighting. You're not sure of the procedure for when your daughter's girlfriend, who your daughter's being ignoring for four days straight, comes over while said daughter is confined in her bedroom and giving you grunts whenever you knock on her door and ask how she's doing and if she needs anything.
But Lexa's eyes are just as red as Clarke’s, so it's not too difficult to figure out she's been doing the same amount of crying as your daughter.
You decide to let her in and invite her to a cup of tea. She glances over to the stairs, hesitantly, but it seems as though she needs a few more minutes before facing Clarke and she takes you up on your offer.
"So," you say once you're both sitting in the kitchen counter with a mug, "is someone finally going to tell me what happened?"
"Clarke didn't tell you?" she asks, though she doesn't seem that surprised. You shake your head and she sighs, "She received an offer to study an internship in Paris next year."
You gasp because, as far as you knew, Clarke had set her heart on studying art and she applied to Columbia and NYU (she told you that it was because she didn't want to be away from home, but you would bet good money that it’s Lexa she doesn't want to be away from). But every time you asked she told you that she still hadn't heard anything.
"Oh, dear. But that's amazing! I can't believe she didn't tell me before!"
"Yeah, it is amazing," Lexa says, grabbing her mug with both of her hands, "Except that she says she doesn't want to. She was going to decline the internship."
"What? Why would she do that?"
Lexa gives you a pointed look while she sips from her tea and you feel stupid for asking.
"I see. So I'm guessing you are trying to convince her otherwise".
Lexa nods.
"I don't want her to stay here and regret her decision. It's... it's France, Abby, Paris," she says, and you smile a little as you always do since she started using your first name, "There are a lot of opportunities and experiences she could miss if she doesn't go. “
You sigh because you agree completely with Lexa, but you also know what it is like to love someone so much that everything else is only a little detail of your life in comparison.
"You know Clarke, honey. If she's made up her mind on this, nothing's going to change her decision."
"But I... I can't let her do this," she looks tired and desperate, and really, Clarke is lucky to have someone who loves her this much, "I can't let someone else throw away a great opportunity for me, again." She takes a deep breath and closes her eyes.
You remember the day at the supermarket and you think that it’s quite unlikely that Clarke ever regrets anything if at the end of the day she has Lexa by her side. But both of them are so so full of life, so kind and so bright, that you tend to forget how much more they have to learn in their lives.
"Well, have you told her that?" you ask gently.
"I tried, but she wouldn't answer my calls. And she said she needed some time and I-"
"Mum," we're both startled but Clarke's sudden presence. You look at her, trying to figure out how long she's been standing there, but she has her gaze fixed on Lexa, who is looking back at her with the same intensity. "Can you give us some time alone, please?".
"Of course."
It takes them nearly an hour, along with more crying and a bit of yelling, but in the end Clarke gives in and Lexa promises to visit frequently, very frequently.
"I missed you so much," you hear Clarke saying.
Lexa can't even reciprocate the sentiment before Clarke's lips are on hers.
And you think that, yeah, they're going to be okay.
If someone had told you back in the day, when you were holding a newborn baby in your arms, that she was going to be getting married at the early age of twenty three and you would be nearly as excited as her about it, you would have laughed at that person's face and told them to get the hell out of your life.
Well, strange things happen all the time.
But it's okay. It's okay because you've never seen Clarke so sure about anything as she is about this.
It's okay because you're walking your daughter down the aisle and when you arrive to where Lexa and her sister await, neither Lexa nor Clarke are doing well with holding back their tears.
And it's okay because it's a small, plain ceremony; Octavia gives the best woman speech, which has the room ringing with laughter; Bellamy needs to stop twice to wipe his eyes when he's dancing with Clarke; and Raven and Jasper have decided to play matchmaking and managed to get you to talk to a really nice man.
When Clarke and Lexa are standing in the middle of the dancing hall, surrounded by a hundred people, looking at each other as if they were the only ones in the room, it is more than okay.
Marcus Kane turns out to be more than a nice man and even though you're not there yet, you can see yourself falling in love with him eventually.
You fall in love yet again, when you're holding in your arms the smallest of things.
It's a beautiful child, with a head covered by a mess of blonde curls and eyes that you're sure will be the most perfect blue when they are open. You are already proud, because the child has not been born for a whole day but you can already see in the way they sleep comfortable against Lexa's chest, with Clarke's arm thrown around both of them, that they are going to make perfect mommies.
You sob a little now that they are all sleep, because if you had known that your daughter's life was going to follow this wonderful path, you would have saved yourself so many, so many worries.
They are so lucky to have each other, but you are the luckiest because you have them.