(no subject)
catch. it was cold outside. she had layered herself under a jacket and an expensive coat, but the air didn’t have anything on the chill from the empty half of her bed. 1040 words.
It was cold outside. She had layered herself under a jacket and an expensive coat, but the air didn’t have anything on the chill from the empty half of her bed.
She was a posted sentinel watching her son; old habits died hard - the twitch for a weapon at her waist or against her ribs, recognizing aggression in posture through crossed arms or quick, waving gestures.
Lines creasing around the eyes as eyebrows knitted together.
A flinch of a sneer at the corner of a mouth.
Eyes wide with disbelief.
The quiver of a clenched jaw.
The oppressive weight on a ring finger.
Even at an empty playground, it was hard for her to remember to be a mother.
From behind - “Sit down. You’re the one that looks suspicious.” Her footsteps echoed across the small park, heels clicking and scraping against the concrete as she sat down on the metal bench and leaned back, eyes following the path her son took to the monkey bars with Summer following at his footsteps.
Naomi, full of her maternal goodness and half smirks, laughed. It was a deep and throaty laugh, and it came from her soul and Tess was envious.
She didn’t know where her soul was.
But at the same time, never mind, yes she did. Half of it was with the child in front of her with gravel sinking underneath his shoes as he ran.
The rest was perpetually robbed from her. It was returned occasionally in visits that were too short and taken again with a kiss goodbye.
The quiver of a clenched jaw.
The oppressive weight on a ring finger.
Naomi, the mother, the strong one, said, “How long?” and Tess answered, “Four months tomorrow.”
Green eyes flicked to the boy leading her daughter. “His birthday is next week.”
But Tess knew that. She had a present already wrapped and locked away in her office safe with metallic wrapping paper and ribbons that had been curled with the blade of a pair of scissors. A masterpiece of packaging that was doomed to be destroyed. From Mom and Dad, said the label, but Dad hadn’t even been consulted on the matter.
A flinch of a sneer on the corner of her mouth.
A warm had pressed on her shoulder. “He’ll be there,” was the assurance, but Tess shook her head.
“I can’t do this anymore.”
“What?”
“Be a fucking single parent.”
Naomi let the curse word fly. Her hand dropped from Tess’s shoulder. “You’ve done it once.”
“I shouldn’t have to do it again.” She bit a lip as the cold wind bit at her face. “I’m so sick of this routine. He comes home, and he’s a father for a while. We have sex during school hours and are dressed by the time our son comes home. He has a few meals with us. Then he leaves.”
“The sex doesn’t cut it,” Naomi guessed, and Tess’s single burst of laughter was full of bitterness. The upturned corners of her mouth were two of the tiniest white lies.
“No,” she said. “No, far from.”
She quieted to relish the sound of her son laughing. He could reach the monkey bars, but Summer couldn’t - even when Summer was older (and taller). Naomi smiled at her daughter’s persistence. She leaned over and said quietly, “I should tell you that your brother doesn’t like this arrangement.”
“Don’t tell him about this.”
“But you should.”
Her arms crossed and pressed against the torso of her black coat. She had already heard what her brother had to say. He wanted the weight from her ring finger gone, vanished, dropped into the ocean and never seen again because she might love her husband but this wasn’t fair to her, not when she needed him most and her son needed a father.
The last thing she wanted to let her brother know that a part of her felt that he was right; that she loved her husband so desperately much, but wanted him to stay gone rather than keep leaving. She was continuously ripped apart and her seams were wearing away and couldn't take any more attempts at repair.
It wasn’t working anymore. She couldn’t do this anymore. She couldn’t be a wife and a mother when she was only a wife once every few months, because that’s not how it worked. And he couldn’t be a father once every couple of months, missing birthdays and recitals and class plays and open houses and movie nights on the sofa and Friday Night Pizza, because that’s not how it worked.
This wasn’t how it was supposed to work.
Before she could cry on that park bench, Naomi said, “Go ahead and go home. Tell your son you have to go somewhere. I’ll take them home and pop a movie or two in, and you can pick him up in a few hours.”
Tess nodded. She liked this plan. She got off the bench and started toward her son, and her son saw and dropped off the monkey bars to run to her. She wrapped her arms around him, squeezing maybe a little too tightly, and said, “Mom has to go.”
“Why?”
“I have to work, sweet heart. Naomi’s going to take you back to her house while I finish. I’ll pick you up before dinner.”
“Because tonight’s pizza.”
Tess smiled. “Yes, it is.” She gave him a kiss goodbye and waved to Naomi, ring hidden by her black gloves, and walked to the car. The moment the door was closed, and the tint on the car windows hid her from the rest of the world, she sank back in the fine leather seat and felt a tear fall down her cheek, and another gather in her eyelashes. Her teeth were gritted in frustration. Lines creased around the eyes as her eyebrows knitted together, forcing her eyes closed, forcing the tears away. She shoved the key in the ignition and the engine purred to life, and she backed out of her parking space.
She hadn’t even gotten out of the parking lot when another car slammed into hers, on the drivers side.
Her eyes went wide with disbelief before they closed, and she slumped against the airbags.
notes
excerpt from one of my three nanowrimo short stories, mostly about tess raising her kid and her husband always being gone and how she deals. tess is/was also a paid assassin in her spare time, but ever since her son was born, she works a desk job. normal life and all that shit. kind of.
fun fact: tess is actually talaeu, this other character i have that i use in a lot of my fantasy/definitely not real life shit. this nanowrimo story was supposed to be her story in modern day real life but kinda warped into something else, thanks to my dear friend heather (onesillyrabbit), who writes tess's husband elliot when i'm not doing things like this without her knowing the details.
although elliot-not-being-present-in-their-child's-life was actually all her idea. sooo. yeah.
fun fact number 2: i like recycling my characters. it's fun mashing them together in alternate universes. also saves me the trouble of having millions of original characters like i used to.
It was cold outside. She had layered herself under a jacket and an expensive coat, but the air didn’t have anything on the chill from the empty half of her bed.
She was a posted sentinel watching her son; old habits died hard - the twitch for a weapon at her waist or against her ribs, recognizing aggression in posture through crossed arms or quick, waving gestures.
Lines creasing around the eyes as eyebrows knitted together.
A flinch of a sneer at the corner of a mouth.
Eyes wide with disbelief.
The quiver of a clenched jaw.
The oppressive weight on a ring finger.
Even at an empty playground, it was hard for her to remember to be a mother.
From behind - “Sit down. You’re the one that looks suspicious.” Her footsteps echoed across the small park, heels clicking and scraping against the concrete as she sat down on the metal bench and leaned back, eyes following the path her son took to the monkey bars with Summer following at his footsteps.
Naomi, full of her maternal goodness and half smirks, laughed. It was a deep and throaty laugh, and it came from her soul and Tess was envious.
She didn’t know where her soul was.
But at the same time, never mind, yes she did. Half of it was with the child in front of her with gravel sinking underneath his shoes as he ran.
The rest was perpetually robbed from her. It was returned occasionally in visits that were too short and taken again with a kiss goodbye.
The quiver of a clenched jaw.
The oppressive weight on a ring finger.
Naomi, the mother, the strong one, said, “How long?” and Tess answered, “Four months tomorrow.”
Green eyes flicked to the boy leading her daughter. “His birthday is next week.”
But Tess knew that. She had a present already wrapped and locked away in her office safe with metallic wrapping paper and ribbons that had been curled with the blade of a pair of scissors. A masterpiece of packaging that was doomed to be destroyed. From Mom and Dad, said the label, but Dad hadn’t even been consulted on the matter.
A flinch of a sneer on the corner of her mouth.
A warm had pressed on her shoulder. “He’ll be there,” was the assurance, but Tess shook her head.
“I can’t do this anymore.”
“What?”
“Be a fucking single parent.”
Naomi let the curse word fly. Her hand dropped from Tess’s shoulder. “You’ve done it once.”
“I shouldn’t have to do it again.” She bit a lip as the cold wind bit at her face. “I’m so sick of this routine. He comes home, and he’s a father for a while. We have sex during school hours and are dressed by the time our son comes home. He has a few meals with us. Then he leaves.”
“The sex doesn’t cut it,” Naomi guessed, and Tess’s single burst of laughter was full of bitterness. The upturned corners of her mouth were two of the tiniest white lies.
“No,” she said. “No, far from.”
She quieted to relish the sound of her son laughing. He could reach the monkey bars, but Summer couldn’t - even when Summer was older (and taller). Naomi smiled at her daughter’s persistence. She leaned over and said quietly, “I should tell you that your brother doesn’t like this arrangement.”
“Don’t tell him about this.”
“But you should.”
Her arms crossed and pressed against the torso of her black coat. She had already heard what her brother had to say. He wanted the weight from her ring finger gone, vanished, dropped into the ocean and never seen again because she might love her husband but this wasn’t fair to her, not when she needed him most and her son needed a father.
The last thing she wanted to let her brother know that a part of her felt that he was right; that she loved her husband so desperately much, but wanted him to stay gone rather than keep leaving. She was continuously ripped apart and her seams were wearing away and couldn't take any more attempts at repair.
It wasn’t working anymore. She couldn’t do this anymore. She couldn’t be a wife and a mother when she was only a wife once every few months, because that’s not how it worked. And he couldn’t be a father once every couple of months, missing birthdays and recitals and class plays and open houses and movie nights on the sofa and Friday Night Pizza, because that’s not how it worked.
This wasn’t how it was supposed to work.
Before she could cry on that park bench, Naomi said, “Go ahead and go home. Tell your son you have to go somewhere. I’ll take them home and pop a movie or two in, and you can pick him up in a few hours.”
Tess nodded. She liked this plan. She got off the bench and started toward her son, and her son saw and dropped off the monkey bars to run to her. She wrapped her arms around him, squeezing maybe a little too tightly, and said, “Mom has to go.”
“Why?”
“I have to work, sweet heart. Naomi’s going to take you back to her house while I finish. I’ll pick you up before dinner.”
“Because tonight’s pizza.”
Tess smiled. “Yes, it is.” She gave him a kiss goodbye and waved to Naomi, ring hidden by her black gloves, and walked to the car. The moment the door was closed, and the tint on the car windows hid her from the rest of the world, she sank back in the fine leather seat and felt a tear fall down her cheek, and another gather in her eyelashes. Her teeth were gritted in frustration. Lines creased around the eyes as her eyebrows knitted together, forcing her eyes closed, forcing the tears away. She shoved the key in the ignition and the engine purred to life, and she backed out of her parking space.
She hadn’t even gotten out of the parking lot when another car slammed into hers, on the drivers side.
Her eyes went wide with disbelief before they closed, and she slumped against the airbags.
notes
excerpt from one of my three nanowrimo short stories, mostly about tess raising her kid and her husband always being gone and how she deals. tess is/was also a paid assassin in her spare time, but ever since her son was born, she works a desk job. normal life and all that shit. kind of.
fun fact: tess is actually talaeu, this other character i have that i use in a lot of my fantasy/definitely not real life shit. this nanowrimo story was supposed to be her story in modern day real life but kinda warped into something else, thanks to my dear friend heather (onesillyrabbit), who writes tess's husband elliot when i'm not doing things like this without her knowing the details.
although elliot-not-being-present-in-their-child's-life was actually all her idea. sooo. yeah.
fun fact number 2: i like recycling my characters. it's fun mashing them together in alternate universes. also saves me the trouble of having millions of original characters like i used to.