ArchivedLogs:In Passing

In Passing
Dramatis Personae Billy, Melinda, Tola
In Absentia	2014-09-07 '
Location <NYC> Harbor Commons - Courtyard - Lower East Side
This courtyard is the lush central hub of the surrounding Harbor Commons, bound in on three sides by rows of duplexes and triplexes, cutting upward at the sky with the sharp thrift of a minimalist's style, neat lines and bountiful windows, boldened with accents in wood towards the upper stories, stone towards the base, the whole of the compound sealed in by a low stoneworked wall that opens entrance gates to the streets beyond at its two far corners, smaller gates at building back doors. The fourth side of the courtyard is open to the East River, the ground forming a slight decline, controlled on one side by micro-retaining walls to form wide steps where picnic tables sit beneath the nominative shelter of a trio of dogwood trees, accessible by ramp. The other side is allowed to slope at its natural angle, a wide open yard space, until its cut off at the river's edge, where a massive pair of oak trees stand, a staircase leading away up one of their thick trunks. The yard itself is carpeted in an organic flow of emerald grass swirled through with winding channels of smooth-paved cement walkways, flowing naturally away from the building's front entrances, where some are arced by trellis, some flanked by hosta plants, fern and lilies, a few laid in gentle switch-backing ramps for wheelchair access, before forking off at matching angles to sites of small garden installments. Bird feeders and baths suspended from the necks of small lamp posts, a rock-lined koi pond, a sleek gazebo tucked to one side in simplistic varnished wood, its southern side overgrown with a mass of thriving grapevine and a caged-in barbecue pit under its sheltering roof. A play area and proper garden are within sight off another branch, until finally all paths spiral in like wheel spokes to a shared common house at the center of all traffic flow. The day is feeling rather cool after yesterday's blistering temperatures. It's still warm out, but Mel and Tola have decided to spend a little outside. They've set up a little picnic one one of the tables near the river. There are a few bottles of liquid and what looks like a stir fry pasta with large chunks of tofu, mixed with different veggies. There's a baby chair clinging to one end of the table, the grips pressing tight, holding a small green infant in position. There's a white tray in front of her that has a bowl with a white gruel in it, but Mel is trying to feed the child something bright orange from a rubber coated spoon. Tola is accepting for the most part, but not very good at taking the whole bite. Little baby gumbs come down with her lips and the pureed mess starts to pool off the spoon into the small bowl the mother holds below. The expression on Mel's face is one of determination. At length and a couple of tries, Mel lets the child stick her hand in the white gruel and suck it off her fist while she turns back to her meal, mostly drinking from the tall pink glass in front of her. The jingling of keys announces Billy's passing through more-so than any sound of footsteps. He turns the heavier-than-usual key ring around and around in white-gloved hands, acclimating himself to the addition of a heavier, electronic car-key and a large, round metallic (X) keychain. Dressed conservatively in white slacks and a smart white dress shirt that's left unbuttoned at the collar, he doesn't appear to be in any particular rush. So, when he comes upon Melinda and the wee baby, he's /one of those people/ and has to stop. "Hi! You are so cute! Are you eating?" He coos down to the baby, planting both gloves hands on his knees to bend forward slightly. The blonde's white leather messenger bag slumps forward and slaps against his side as he turns his brighter-than-bright smile over to Melinda, offering a cheerful nod of recognition. Tola turns her head and a pair of green iris'd eyes upon Billy when he comes over cooing. She studies him quietly as she distractedly twhaps the surface of her lumpy grain mush. Her bib is smeared with food, the mess creeping onto her shoulders, bare underneath the protective covering, save her natural cloth diaper. Her free hand, this one covered in that orange goo, reaches out for Billy's face, fingers curled in such a way that she's pointing at him. She then looks back at her mother for confirmation. Melinda straightens up at Billy's approach, a couple flecks of mess on her forearms as well, as feeding a baby is dangerous for all parties. She's wearing a black swimsuit, two piece, with a purple sarong around her waist, her tan shoulders pre-baked to protect her from the sun's heavy rays. She offers a small smile, then states, after his question, "If you want an answer to that, you maybe waiting over a year." Billy giggles in response, pouting his lips and mock-offering his face for Tola to tough ...though, not *quite* offering it. "Sorry," he beams, switching which hand he holds his keys in order to offer hand to Melinda, "I'm Billy! I feel like I've seen you around. Places?" He rolls his head on his neck vaguely. "Hey, Billy. I'm Mel and this is Tola. Yeah. I've seen you around places too. You a neighbor now?" She looks him over, taking him in as he doesn't seem to just be passing by. She also takes his hand and grips it firmly before releasing and resting her elbows on either side of her plate. "Also, if you're hungry, you're welcome to some food. I kind of made a lot and Tola's not going to be able to handle stuff this size for a while." "Oh, no! I was just dropping someone off," he hitches his head in the direction he'd come from, "I live in Brooklyn." The Lady that he is, Billy's own handshake is loose and gentle. "Nice to meet you Mel /and Tola/. That's a pretty name. Any significance?" The young man places a hand to his flat stomach, gesturing in polite decline with the other, "Oh, I couldn't. I have like, really uhm... dietary restrictions." Most of which are a fantastical result of his own squeamishness, "But thank you so much!" "'Tola' is Thai. It means flourish. One of her dads picked it out." Mel's gaze takes on a softer, almost sad note as she glances back to her daughter and her food splooshing antics. The child is now oblivious to the rest of the world, very dedicated to smearing that orange from one hand into the white moosh of the other. Her mom straightens up a little and slips a fork between her fingers, twisting it up in the noodles on her plate and stabbling a triangle of tofu. "Ah. Brooklyn, huh? That's a ways away." Billy flicks his eyes up just slightly in reaction to the 'dads' comment, but nothing more, "Not too far. And I love it there," he shrugs happily. "I just got an internship in Westchester so, I might as well be used to spending a lot of time on the road, anyway," the blonde muses. (Yes. He's telling everyone.) Though, the thought does evidently strike him that liking somewhere else might somehow offend, "The Commons is really nice though! And, 'friendly.'" "You could always by one of those vans or RVs and just live on the road, or well, take an apartment closer to your internship. That seems the most financially sound." Mel then pops her fork-load of food in her mouth, chewing politely and remaining quiet while there is a mess behind her lips. She has to rest her fork on the side of her plate though, when Tola finally gets her hands on the bowl and threatens to chuck it over her head. As she leans for the baby, rising in her haste, her stomach ripples. The slightly pinkish strips of over stretched skin casts a rubbery look to the folds of flesh around her midsection, the places where she still hasn't lost the baby weight sagging loosely as an afterthought as she moves. The bowl is rescued and held over the tray for dumping, the mother rolling her eyes a little. As her mouth is clear, she grumbles quietly. "They just don't really seem to emphasize enough the fact that when the child gains more alertness and energy, they are soo much more work. And yeah, the commons are friendly. Kind of the point," she adds as she settles back into her seat, surrendering the child to mess. She gives Billy another smile. Billy laughs, assuming the trailer comment was a joke. Yeah. That'd be real funny. When Hell freezes over, Billy Sharpe will live in an RV. "I think they definitely emphasize that," he giggles more, narrowing his eyes at Mel skeptically, "Maybe you just skimmed that chapter." He jangles his keys, "Alright, I'll stop interrupting your lunch. You have your hands full! It was really nice meeting you ~/and you tooo, Tolaa!/~" He crouches down again and waves goodbye to the baby by flapping his fingers childishly. "Yeah, well, maybe." Mel replies to Billy's assessment of her 'skimming that chapter,' her lips pursing. She brightens a little when he starts to make his good byes, retrieving her fork and starting to absently gather more sustenance on its tines. "Nice meeting you, too. Have a good day!" Her gaze lowers as she tries to spear a tough skinned yet heat softened tomato. The blonde withdraws from the courtyard in what can only be described as a little bit of a prance. Billy hefts back up his messenger bag and swings his keys around cheerfully as he makes his way out to enjoy the rest of his day.