ArchivedLogs:Nesting

Nesting
Dramatis Personae Jim, Melinda
In Absentia	2014-02-27 '
Location <NYC> Home - Greenwich Village
Nestled into the heart of the Village, Home is an unobtrusive place, with an unobtrusive name to match. A nondescript storefront opens up into an equally nondescript cafe, plain tiled floors, an assortment of veneered tables with plain wooden chairs or booths with cracking vinyl benches. What it /does/ have to recommend it is the food, hearty solid breakfast and brunch served twenty-four hours a day, with a wide variety of menu to cater to specialized diets as well. Well-known to locals and little frequented by tourists, its friendly serving staff tend to remember their regulars, giving the place a warm feel that lives up to its name. It got cold again. But that's fine enough by Jim, he has a harsh face to match, all severe furrowed brows and washboard crows feet coming in the door to Home. The warm smell of pancakey fluffiness and coffee fails to thaw it, the room victim of his summary thousand-yard stare - as is a toothpick at the front counter. YOINK. He probably wasn't able to spring for a rental car today, money not being infinite, but he's company enough to skulk along in Melinda's wake, elbow people aside on the subway and snoopily glower at test results in the doctor's office. As usual, he's been primarily tight-lipped and grunty, tucking toothpick into the firm clamp of back-most teeth while using his other hand to hold the door open for his present company. His one nice-ish button up shirt beneath his increasingly ratty jacket are evidence enough that he's still trying to at least not embarrass the woman by looking quite as much the... sewer-dwelling hobo. Melinda follows a half step behind Jim, if only to avoid some of the back wash of elbowed people he creates. She is busily removing hat and scarf as they head inside, her eyes looking around to see how busy the restaurant is. She then opens her coat to show off the belly as she steps forward to speak to to the hostess, looking for a table for two - a small one will do, any corner or side or anything. The hostess looks her over as she speaks and then nods, heading back to give the plates on some of the tables a quick glance to judge time. Melinda moves to lean against a short wall as she waits, as waiting is still necessary. Her attention shifts toward Jim, her gaze soft on the older man. "You still hanging in there? It's getting to be a bigger deal. More appointments. More preparation." "The hell /you/ think?" Jim stands, the line of is his shoulders at a perpendicular angular to Melinda's, so that the point in which they are closest is a right angle. "You're the one's gotta go through it." He glances only briefly to Melinda's eyes, then slightly longer, down, at her abdomen. "...how's it." It. "It uh-," he pucks out his toothpick just to... gesture at her. With it. "Been." Been WHAT Jim. "It's different. Let's call it that." Melinda frowns a little, following the hostess when she returns to seat them. "Getting kicked a lot. Squirming, hiccuping, twitching, responding to sounds, and waking at dawn any chance I get to sleep. It's crazy." She moves and slides into a seat, peeling her coat off her shoulders as she gets settled. "I don't know. I kind of want it over with, but at the same time, I have no idea what's going to happen once the kid comes." There's a pause as she receives a menu, and then, "Well, I'm know what's going to happen, I just, well, it's not something I've experienced yet." Jim squirms, hiking up his shoulders miserably around his neck and glancing around the restaurant. He is still doing this even when he falls in line behind Melinda towards their table. "How you wanna do this, anyway," like it's a drug deal. He moves in to help Mel push her chair in - with a foot on the chair rungs, anyway, "I see Jax is with Spence. Whole... communcalbaby thing. 'Takes a village' kinda... bullshit. Even if not everyone's as /enthused/ with this one." "Well, I've got a place in the Harbor Commons. Tove is going to stay with me as a nanny. He's having a hard time selling the shell during interviews, so he says he'll appreciate the free rent and minimal income. Between the two of us, we'll have hours covered, so anyone who hates... dislikes the idea of the kid can just leave us alone - not live in the same building. They can pretend I'm just some stranger who lives nearby." She inhales deeply and pulls over her glass of water and takes a sip. "Do you want time, or do you just want to visit?" "Yeah... income." THAT. Jim chair-hops his seat under the table roughly. "That's a thing." He drags up his menu, using splayed fingers to keep it propped up with a single hand, eyes jumping up and furrowing in Melinda's direction, "Time-what now?" "Bah. I was going to ask if you wanted to spend time with your kid, but if that doesn't register, now I'm worried I'm scaring you with the notion. So, why don't we forget it." Melinda draws a finger down the menu and ends up on breakfast sausages and scrambled eggs. "There. I'm ready." "You /asked/ it weird," Jim yanks the menu aside so he doesn't have to look AROUND it, "what the fuck, Mel. Do you have to make every fucking thing /weird/?" "I guess." Melinda eyes him. "Besides, that's one of the words you shouldn't be saying." "What, 'weird'?" Jim plunges right on in there, leaning back in his chair and scrubbing at his EYE, "Why the fuck not, you make it weird I'm gonna call it weird." Maybe he's drying to dig his eye right out of his head, "Christ, who just out and asks shit like that?" "Ah..." Melinda eyes Jim for a moment, lips pursing as she takes a deep breath. "The word thing is about the zombie disease, Jim. I guess if you think everything's all safe now, you can use it, but I'm still skittish." She rests her hands on her menu, folding them quietly. "And I asked about the time thing because I wanted to know. You asked me about the whole community raising kids and lots of people being involved. I kind of wanted to know if you wanted to be involved." "I'm not infected," Jim mutters behind his hand. "D'you need every fucking detail discussed, printed, triplicated and /signed/ ahead of time? 'Want time' or 'just a visit' - We're gonna be living in the same god damn complex." He drops his hand and just - looks at her, not even angry. "What is /with/ you with all this?" Melinda lowers her head just a little, her attention drifting back to her menu. She is quiet for a while, hands unclasping to reach over and grab her silverware, slowly unrolling the napkin around it. "No. I don't." She blinks a few times, glancing up at him. "I just feel like I'm running out of time." "Running out of time to what?" Jim interrupts an approaching waitress before she has a chance to speak with a flat, "Coffee. Black." And back at Melinda without once breaking TONE, "Arrange for people to give a shit?" "Short stack, with a side of link sausage," Melinda requests, "and a large glass of orange juice." She waits until the waitress leaves with their orders before she starts again. "There's this thing that all the websites say an expectant mother is supposed to do. It's called 'nesting.' Now, most people, they go out and buy nursery furniture, get baby clothes, talk about opening a savings account for eventual university." She swallows hard. "I'm moving in about a month, giving birth a week or three after that. I've sunk everything I have into this new place to live... and It's not here yet so I'm panicking. I'm sorry." "Now you said one of the words." Mel said 'sorry'. You really think Jim's going to let that go so soon? He makes a lazy little pistol-hand point at her too - down low, with wrist still resting loosely on the table edge. Chk-ah. His eyes are roving the room again restlessly. Shamelessly eyeballing other people's food, "Alright. So uh - What were you gonna do before the Commons were a thing? Renew the lease? Nest at the old place?" "I was going to renew. Probably keep going there for a while. I was considering the new business, as a place to put the money I'd been saving - ever since I got the restaurant manager position, but the others backed out as well. The... plague wasn't good for anyone." That said, she raises a hand and and closes it to a fist and rubs a circle around her heart. "Apologies. You are correct. I should be more careful." There's a beat and then, "Anyway. I don't know if I ever thought of nesting where I am now. Everything has just been happening too fast." "Yeahwell." Jim fishes into an inner pocket, withdrawing a dogeared tablet and a small pen, "Wish I could help. But uh." He gestures at himself with the pen, "Unemployed and semi-homeless." He leans back in his seat, crossing an ankle on a knee, "So. Let's start at the top. What /do/ you want?" "More time," Melinda admits at first, wistfully, lips pursing, gaze focused on the table. She looks up a moment later and gives a little smile and shrug and says, "give me a minute. I can be more practical."