Status: Rating subject to change.
Baby Steps
One.
"I'm sick of this, sick of you! You promised me you'd care for us!"
Red and full of anger, her face was inches from mine, her spit flying into my face with every screamed word, her blue eyes bulging.
"Liar. That's what you are. And I'm a damn fool."
Turning abruptly, she stomped over to our shared dresser and pulled open the middle drawer with such violence that it fell forward and she dropped it, clothes spilling out all over the floor.
"This is the thanks I get for carrying that," she motioned toward the bassinet in the corner, "thing of yours around inside of me for nine months. I get poverty."
Grabbing the clothes off of the floor by fistfuls, she turned and stormed past me to the bedroom doorway where her backpack lay and began shoving them inside, muttering to herself.
I stared long and hard at her, weighing my options.
"I do care for you." My voice came out lower than usual, cold and hard. "We're never hungry, always warm. Just because we don't have the 'finer' things doesn't mean I don't 'care' or that I'm some deadbeat that used you as a baby incubator."
She scoffed at me, waving me off without even turning to look me in the eyes.
"Save it, Mark. I'm done with you. Done with this." Rising to her feet, she slung the pack over her shoulder.
"Have a nice life."
The glance she gave me before slamming the door and walking out forever could only be described as crazed.
I stood there staring at the door, wondering what I was supposed to do next.
_____
A gasp broke through my lips as I bolted upright in bed, my heart pounding in my chest and my forehead drenched in sweat. Not again.
It had been almost a month since my last nightmare; since that scene had stopped haunting me everytime I closed my eyes for rest. I had thought it was finally done.
No such luck. I reached out for the nightstand, feeling along its surface until I found my glasses. Dragging the back of my left hand across my brow, I wiped away the sweat while adjusting my glasses on my face with my right.
Everything was quiet, peaceful. Yet my mind still raged at a mile a minute, thoughts of her and that look in her eyes setting off the alarm bells in my head.
Swinging my legs over the edge of the bed, I stood and quickly padded my way across the hardwood floor and out my open bedroom door, crossing the narrow hallway in about three steps and entering Lucy's room, my brain over-loading to the point where I almost thought I saw her leaning over the bassinet, through the shadows. My heart thudded as I tapped the star-shaped wall light twice, casting a dim, pink glow over the tiny room.
Nothing, see? How and why would she be here anyway. I exhaled deeply, my heart returning to a normal pace.
Moving to stand over her, I smiled to myself. I could hear her little breaths, and that calmed me even more. I reached over the edge and brushed her soft, dark baby hairs back into place on her head before leaning down and planting a kiss right in the middle of her forehead. As I pulled leaned back, I watched her scrunch up her face, squeaking in her sleep as her senses registered my touch.
I let my hand rest on the bedding, my thumb against the side of her cheek. Maybe I wouldn't be going back to sleep tonight, but I could certainly stand by and make sure she met both our quotas.
Red and full of anger, her face was inches from mine, her spit flying into my face with every screamed word, her blue eyes bulging.
"Liar. That's what you are. And I'm a damn fool."
Turning abruptly, she stomped over to our shared dresser and pulled open the middle drawer with such violence that it fell forward and she dropped it, clothes spilling out all over the floor.
"This is the thanks I get for carrying that," she motioned toward the bassinet in the corner, "thing of yours around inside of me for nine months. I get poverty."
Grabbing the clothes off of the floor by fistfuls, she turned and stormed past me to the bedroom doorway where her backpack lay and began shoving them inside, muttering to herself.
I stared long and hard at her, weighing my options.
"I do care for you." My voice came out lower than usual, cold and hard. "We're never hungry, always warm. Just because we don't have the 'finer' things doesn't mean I don't 'care' or that I'm some deadbeat that used you as a baby incubator."
She scoffed at me, waving me off without even turning to look me in the eyes.
"Save it, Mark. I'm done with you. Done with this." Rising to her feet, she slung the pack over her shoulder.
"Have a nice life."
The glance she gave me before slamming the door and walking out forever could only be described as crazed.
I stood there staring at the door, wondering what I was supposed to do next.
_____
A gasp broke through my lips as I bolted upright in bed, my heart pounding in my chest and my forehead drenched in sweat. Not again.
It had been almost a month since my last nightmare; since that scene had stopped haunting me everytime I closed my eyes for rest. I had thought it was finally done.
No such luck. I reached out for the nightstand, feeling along its surface until I found my glasses. Dragging the back of my left hand across my brow, I wiped away the sweat while adjusting my glasses on my face with my right.
Everything was quiet, peaceful. Yet my mind still raged at a mile a minute, thoughts of her and that look in her eyes setting off the alarm bells in my head.
Swinging my legs over the edge of the bed, I stood and quickly padded my way across the hardwood floor and out my open bedroom door, crossing the narrow hallway in about three steps and entering Lucy's room, my brain over-loading to the point where I almost thought I saw her leaning over the bassinet, through the shadows. My heart thudded as I tapped the star-shaped wall light twice, casting a dim, pink glow over the tiny room.
Nothing, see? How and why would she be here anyway. I exhaled deeply, my heart returning to a normal pace.
Moving to stand over her, I smiled to myself. I could hear her little breaths, and that calmed me even more. I reached over the edge and brushed her soft, dark baby hairs back into place on her head before leaning down and planting a kiss right in the middle of her forehead. As I pulled leaned back, I watched her scrunch up her face, squeaking in her sleep as her senses registered my touch.
I let my hand rest on the bedding, my thumb against the side of her cheek. Maybe I wouldn't be going back to sleep tonight, but I could certainly stand by and make sure she met both our quotas.