ArchivedLogs:Family by Any Other

Family by Any Other
Dramatis Personae Melinda, Jim, Sprout	2014-04-21 What's in a name
Location <NYC> BoM Safehouse - Lower East Side
Tucked away off a little-used side street in the Lower East Side, sandwiched between a youth drop-in center and a taqueria, this narrow three-story townhouse has very little to catch the eye. Boarded-up windows, a door peeling its paint, shabby grubby brickface; from the outside it does not look like much. Inside someone has gone to great lengths to renovate the building into something more habitable. It isn't glamorous but it is comfortable, old furniture dragged in, the place generally swept clean. The first floor holds a large living room, a smaller dining room, a spacious kitchen, a half-bathroom. There are three bedrooms and a full bathroom on the second floor; the attic is just a large empty space crammed full of boxes with a window out to the large flat roof. The basement, much like the attic, consists of a lot of empty space. A bare concrete floor, no windows, occasional poles running up to the ceiling. A tiny half-bathroom down here, too. Not a whole lot else. One small room in the safe house has been co-opted by Melinda and tailored to fit her specific needs for the time being. A queen sized mattress (her own) has been stuffed on one end of the room, taking up all of one wall and two thirds of the adjacent wall space. It is covered with a variety of pillows, everything from full body pillows to u-shaped pillows, vain attempts to help a pregnant woman on bed rest stay comfortable. There are also an assortment of blankets over the pale blue sheets, each different blanket suiting a different season as the weather outside, from a light weave summer blanket to a very plush comforter good down to 30 degrees. Beside the bed and perpendicular to the sliding closet doors, there is a night stand and a cooler, the nightstand providing a place for Mel to keep her laptop entertainment, with drawers for snacks and a cooler for fresher food. Light filters in between the slats of the boarded over window, but the glass is intact on the inside, and overhead and table side lamps light the room in the darker hours. Contents: Melinda Morning sheds glowing stripes around the small bedroom Melinda is occupying at the safehouse, casting a soft glow on the bed near the foot at this hour. The new addition of the cosleeper makes getting in and out of bed nearly impossible, given the cramped condition, but Mel isn't trying right now. Instead, she is curled up in the corner, holding her child while she nurses, the baby's tiny hand tangling in some tendrils of hair hanging across the woman's chest. This brings a little bit of tugging, which isn't all that comfortable for mom, but she perseveres for the time being, putting up with the annoyance. She's dressed in light weight cotton pajamas, the shirt a little stained by milk. Her shoulders hold a bathrobe onto her frame, while her lower half is covered by sleep shorts. Big bulky socks keep her from getting chilled in the spring air. Overall, Mel is tired and looking forward to getting the Sprout fed so she can get some coffee in her. Since the birth, Jim has been a steady, often silent presence around the mother and her child, rendering what aid he can where it might be needed and possibly volunteering to take up shifts around the entrances and windows of the house if it's allowed. Outside of needing to take long moments to catch his 'wind' in whatever abandoned lot might allow for putting down roots for a few hours in the evening, that is. He's been perhaps surprisingly amenable to holding the tiny thing, cushioning his gnarled inner arms with soft green moss, and... settling back, at times, to give mom much needed /breaks/ to shower and sleep when she can. It's possible the tiny girl finds a soothing comfort, in the flourish of plantlife this proximity makes between them. The two communing in a language beneath human forebrain interaction - and giving her back often involves untangling a few /vines/ that encircle her tiny ankles. At the moment, he's coming back in from a trip to the kitchen, carrying a dish of greek yogurt with /extremely/ fresh raspberries sprinkled over the top of it. Maybe it's /momma's/ turn for lunch. He first reaches out a rather non-nonsense hand to work the Sprout's hand open to RELEASE her fistful of hair, hiking his brows up at Melinda like - s'up. When the door opens, Melinda almost reflexively reaches up, hand full of blanket, to cover her chest, but doesn't, the aborted motion only resulting in a slight shifting of her weight. She isn't exactly baring breast to the world here as there is more than enough baby head to hide majority of what is going on. Additionally, no strangers have busted in, so the reflex is unwarranted. "Hey," she greets him quietly, a sleepy daze on her face. "Is that for me?" She glances at the bowl in his hand and smiles a little. Because Jim is an /asshole/ he confirms 'yes' by holding the bowl up out of Melinda's reach and waggling it like... YOU WANT IT JUMP FOR IT, MEL. But only for a moment then he's lowering it and just kind of. Sets it. On the baby. Like a TV tray. /Here ya go/. Though he has a hand hovering nearby for it to inevitably Not Go Well. Melinda's smile fades when the antics begin, her head canting to one side as she watches him tease her with the bowl. Then he tries to set it on the child's head - and Mel intercepts, lips pursing and a somewhat accusatory look in her glare. She moves it over to rest on the mattress instead, bringing her hand back to the infant's head to wipe off any drips or mussing that has taken place. "Thanks, anyway." she starts relaxing back against the wall quietly, her displeasure disappearing as the moments tick by in silence. Why does Jim smile most often when Melinda is /glaring/ at him? It's like he was waiting for that moment as a sign that he can /relax/, and settle in himself, setting a ( - careful - ) hip on the bed alongside the woman. There's a slight - question? can I /sit/ here btw? - to his brows, leaning back against the wall with his shoulder propped against the new mother's, so that she might lean more against him than the wall. And reaches out to take back the bowl. And spoons one of the berries off the top, holding it up inquiringly? For Mel? Mel raises an eyebrow but nods when Jim comes to sit down next to them. She then turns her attention to her daughter and carefully removes her from one breast and shuffles everything around to get her to the other side, to alleviate some of the pressure. All said and done, it only takes a minute or two at the most, but it captures her attention during that time. During the shuffle, she ends up a little closer to Jim, her shoulder pinned between his arm and his side. She glances up at Jim again when he starts offering her berries and yogurt, her expression a little surprised at this. She nods and replies, "I guess..." to the offer, but then adds, "You have any thoughts on baby names? She's going to need one sooner or later." With spoon still aloft, so Jim can help Melinda feed /while/ she feeds, there's a thin wheeze of air when Jim pulls air into new lungs; leaning against him, Mel would feel his chest expand. "Names," fffff, his eyes drop to the small suckling thing taking her daily nourishment, and he lowers a hand to... kind of tentatively cup a palm around that small rounded head. Sliding a thumb over her crown. His eyes remain fixed down, "...thought you'n Hive were--. Talking. With 'er." "Well, you're talking to her, too." Melinda points out with a sigh, her head bowing to rest against his shoulder. "I only get to hear what she's thinking when Hive lets me. She's not ... a super baby. She's still about as communicative as she is on the outside. It's just easier to match up sensations." She wets her lips and closes her eyes, uninterested in eating just now. "Anyway, the point is that she's not voting on names because it's a foreign concept to her. We're all adults and you're a part of her, so I'm asking. With my mouth and with my words. If you really don't have any feelings... then maybe you can just tell me what you think of what has already been discussed. Kind of like tie breaking, but not really. More like, casting a vote where we're all kind of overwhelmed with favorites." Jim's mouth twitches, "I have --," augh, he's still not looking up, lowering his voice to grumble, "...feelings. Christ, Mel." Mutter. He puts the spoon back in the yogurt again and sets it aside. Runs a thumb over the Sprout's head again, and the flowers there possibly shiver with the motion. "S'not really. Talking, when I'm-." He swallows, tightening his jaw, "...plants don't talk." "I... apologize. I am not trying to leave you out of anything. I ... just don't actually know what to do with you, to be honest. Most times we spoke before she was born, I could barely..." Melinda bites her lip and inhales deeply, letting the breath out as an effort to keep her tone quiet and peaceful. "I don't know if it's dealing with the fact that you almost died or simply the day she was born, but you're different. I actualy don't know what to think." She uses his shoulder as a pivot point as she rolls her head up to look at him. "You're actually ... kind of holding me. I'm half holding my breath waiting for you to be mad at me for needing it." "I'm not-," Jim's voice kind of raises, then stops. And he lets out a harsh breath, putting his arm a little... more around Melinda. It's not artful, but there's /care/ in it. "...mad." After a long moment of silence, in which he is prodding the Sprout in the underside of her tiny soft foot, he starts, "I dunno it's-." Soft-poke. Light pinch. He closes a hand around the foot. Grumbles, "...Mel, I've never done this before. I went with you t'your appointments I -- can organize a fucking. Shower." AWKWARDLY, not that Mel had to be party to that half. And after a longer moment, "Do you even /want/--" "None of us have done this before," Mel reminds him quietly, snuggling into his armside carefully, not wishing to jostle her too much. She too keeps the pauses long and thoughtful. "Do I want what?" There's a long moment of just quiet after this. The soft suck of a feeding child, minute shifts, the soft pat of a tiny hand patting against a mother's skin. Jim sitting over the two of them, an arm around them. To survive out of dirt, a body prefers depending on inner functions, and deep in Jim's chest is a heartbeat. It's slower, harsher; like a fist thumping beneath a bed. Graceless, stable and hard. Not unlike the arm around her. He scrubs his face, "The shit you 'n I have been through, Mel..." "It's really been too much. Too much stuff to even recount. I can't remember it all half of the time." She sighs and stays close, unwinding one arm from the child to point at the bowl of yogurt, finally feeling hungry. "You need to hear that you're wanted here? That you have a place with this crazy, nontraditional family? Yes. you do. You are wanted here, but be aware that we... are all trying to figure out what that means and how we fit." A breath shudders out of Jim. And both of his arms fold for a moment around Melinda when she speaks. And hold, there, blessedly saying nothing. And then releasing to just as gratefully reach for the freaking /yogurt/. Drawing it near without nonsense this time. "...when I woke up. There was just -- And no one--." He makes a dry hurf, and shakes his head, offering forward a spoonful of yogurt. "And then I heard you were in the hospital. And you know what all I could think was?" "I couldn't come. The Doctors has me on bed rest since the explosion. Corey sent me pictures though." Melinda mutters an explanation before taking a bite of yogurt, leaving the apology unsaid. She chews quietly and swallows, staying still. Eventually, she glances up when his question is met with silence for a little too long. "What did you think?" Before Melinda's even done trying to explain, Jim is already shaking his head, letting out a breath. The raspberry is exquisitely ripe in its tart yogurt, and it can afford a moment of distraction to permit Jim a time to rasp, "--seeing you and Hive there. And then the little -- fucking. Sprout. All - fucking together." Just dropping F-bombs all over your offspring, there. He jabs at the yogurt a few times, building up to something. Another /spoonful/ apparently. He offers it forward, "I'd do it all again. However it went. To have a god damn moment like that." Melinda accepts another bite, swirling around the flavors of the dairy and the fruit before mashing them together and chewing quietly. She nods slowly and closes her eyes again, leaning against his shoulder once more. "It was an incredible moment." "So when I'm not saying a lot about names," Jim goes on, dropping back his head to thunk it against the wall, "It's not 'cause I don't care. I /want/ Hive t'name her. You 'n him. Her. I wan't him --." The arm around Melinda curls tighter, "Ffff I dunno. Something's wrong, there, still. -- She done?" He's SUBTLY peering down at the baby. Because if you're /done/ there Mel, maybe he want's to /snag/ that little thing for a bit. Melinda runs the edge of a hooked finger against the Sprout's cheek, checking her status. The poor thing has fallen asleep midmeal. Still, she gently tugs to pull the little suction off of her skin, pulling her shirt back into place as she rolls the child onto her back, still cradled in her arm. "You want us to name her?" She inhales deeply as she thinks this over. "Something's wrong? Between him and you? Him and me? Him and her?" She turns the baby so she'll be easier for Jim to hold, the child's eyes a little open now, but the look of drugged up milk happiness across her face. "I mean. I -- y'know. Trust you to," Jim bunches up his shoulders, scooping arms around the baby and props her up against his shoulders like he'd been shown how at the hospital - for that short time before they'd been /kicked out/. "It kinda feels like we all three of us made this kid a little --. As a family it seems..." Once the Sprout burps, he settles her into a a cradle of his arms and she... is kind of embedded, in a swell of moss and small flowers. Looking down at her, Jim half-shrugs, "...I dunno. He's barely looked me in the eyes since I woke up. Just before, he was the driving force /keeping/ me awake. Then it's like I came back /wrong/ and--" He's shaking his head like no, even that isn't probably right. Some of the aggression leaving his tone, more notable for it's vacancy than it'd been in his conversation leading up to releasing it. "...so much has happened. The Lofts blowing, this Sublime bastard and -- Dusk." He glances towards the closed door, the tense house just beyond. "...it's wearing on him." "I know." Melinda slides down a bit, now that the child is in someone else's arms, taking the yogurt in hand herself and taking care to replenish herself. "Every time I see him, he seems worse off too. I try to help, but I feel like all I can do is hold him and love him and hope he feels he ..." she sighs and makes quick work of the yogurt, stretching around him to set the bowl down again. "But that night, I think he thought you were staking claim again. Like you did, when you dumped me for kissing him." "That wasn't why we broke up, Mel," Jim tips back his head, wood creaking. Thumps his head on the wall, "And I didn't stake a /claim/, I was pissed that no one asked if I was alright with it before it... Fhh - for all I know, I might've--" Eugh. He cups a hand around the Sprout's ear, like he doesn't want her to have to hear about /daddyDrama/, "That's /normal/ stupid relationship... shit. This is..." Rustle of petals of foliage, the rough bark of father and soft green of child, he shakes his head. "--You really think that's..?" Now that he's thinking about it, he gets quiet for a moment here. "No, I know that wasn't really why we broke up." Melinda curls up, resting her head on a pillow now, instead of his shoulder, giving him space if he needs it. "But it feels right for that night. No one asked you if it was all right for him to get involved with your flesh and blood. You were in a coma for who knows how long and he was usurping you." She draws a deep breath and curls a little tighter into a ball. "I apologize if we did. Nothing was meant to exclude you. We were just... clinging. Feeling things out." "You're allowed to have more than one person care about you at a time, Mel," Jim says wearily, dropping his arm down to... well it ends up just kind of flopped on the side of Melinda's head for a second. Then turns into a... pat. Facepat. There there. Staring out across the room. "...feel out whatever you wanna. The both of you aught'a be happy. Ffh, I'm barely even--" He moves Melinda's bowl further away so she can snuggle in more comfortably, reaching down to pull blankets up around her legs. "... cling. To 'im. S'good." "He... only wants to help," Mel admits sadly, snuggling closer to Jim again. "Wants to help with the kid. He's her parent. Wants to be in her life. That's all." She draws in a deep breath. "It's a nice thought though, clinging." "Yeah." Jim arm tenses for a moment, like it might move. Then can be felt firming itself, and remaining. Gathered around Melinda's curling. "Parent..." That word - that word he says experimentally, and then nods, seeming to settle on it. "Yeah, guess he is. If he wants t'be. We'll just have t'keep making sure he /can/. Give him something..." He shifts an elbow to INDICATE... baby. Infant. Thing. "/Good/. New. To distract himself with." Pause, "...so what. Uncle Hive? Pa Hive? /Christ/ family names are bullshit." He picks at Melinda's freaking BLANKET. Like it makes him mad. "I'm sure he'll pick something in Thai, Jim. What about you? What title do you want?" Melinda peers up at him from her reclined position. "I don't know." Jim hurfs, settling back as well. For another person, supported on a structure of bones and muscle alone, it might be uncomfortable to hold this position for a prolonged length of time. For a tree, less so. "...we're waiting for the Sprout to pick her own name, yeah?" He leans back his head, facing the door, arm still left draped around Melinda. "...maybe we'll see what I should be called til it happens, too." And perhaps then a long silence is allowed to fall. Melinda, permitted a time to sleep. And the baby as well, to settle in, bask and digest in his bountiful energy. And in that way, bodies heal. Grow. And rest.