You're the only song I want to hear
[ooc: Inspired by Death Cab For Cutie concert. Really.]
Michelle regards herself in the mirror.
If she didn't know, she couldn't tell.
She's almost disappointed in herself for turning to the side and eying her profile. She won't grab a pillow and stuff it under her shirt and pants just to see what she'll look like in a few months. Time, as far as she's concerned, has no meaning.
Every day she gets up and eats and forces herself to do exercise. Sometimes she doesn't taste the food but she knows that she has to stay healthy for the baby and she won't live - can't live - with the guilt of killing their child because she thought only of herself. What she wants no longer matters. Pregnancy means no alcohol, no drugs, no wild living and the only thing she takes are vitamins. Every morning she X's out another day on the calendar and tries to remember all the reasons why she can't follow Tony into the dark.
At night, it's harder, wiping away tears as she looks at pictures, touching the one that Tony kept in his wallet even after they were divorced. She wants to believe that he knows and is happy for her. But she fears that he's watching and jealous of the people around her.
She closes her eyes and imagines Tony's arms around her, his chest against her back, his lips near her ear.
"Michelle, my belle -- " He sings softly, teasingly, knowing her reaction to the song. The nickname was sweet the first time she heard it, but a lot of men she met thought they were very original in referring to the song. Tony used to sing it in Spanish to her, his fingertips stroking her shoulder, her side, her hair and she'd close her eyes, falling back to sleep. They discovered that after the remarriage, when she'd be jumpy from nightmares and only his voice tied her to reality. Sometimes she had to remind him he was with her, too. She woke up alone now, shaken by nightmares that were more memory than fantasy. She couldn't stop imagining Tony's last moments and maybe the worst part were her own screams as the gunshot went off and they kept pulling her away from his body.
But she went to lunch with her mom and running with Chris and could pretend that things were getting better because it was only at night that she heard Tony's voice and only when she was alone that she talked to him.
"I found at least four flaws in their security measures," she told him, relating her work of yesterday, not surprised at the silence in response.
She knew he wasn't there but there was nothing wrong with pretending, was there?
She rests her hand on her abdomen, knowing that she is never truly alone now.
"I'll only be like this until you're born, I promise."
Tears slip down her face, and she holds herself tightly, breathing through the breakdown.
She looks up at the mirror again, wishing she could close her eyes and have him be behind her, for God to make an exception just this once.
Milliways changed so much.
Hope is a poor substitute for rationality.
Michelle regards herself in the mirror.
If she didn't know, she couldn't tell.
She's almost disappointed in herself for turning to the side and eying her profile. She won't grab a pillow and stuff it under her shirt and pants just to see what she'll look like in a few months. Time, as far as she's concerned, has no meaning.
Every day she gets up and eats and forces herself to do exercise. Sometimes she doesn't taste the food but she knows that she has to stay healthy for the baby and she won't live - can't live - with the guilt of killing their child because she thought only of herself. What she wants no longer matters. Pregnancy means no alcohol, no drugs, no wild living and the only thing she takes are vitamins. Every morning she X's out another day on the calendar and tries to remember all the reasons why she can't follow Tony into the dark.
At night, it's harder, wiping away tears as she looks at pictures, touching the one that Tony kept in his wallet even after they were divorced. She wants to believe that he knows and is happy for her. But she fears that he's watching and jealous of the people around her.
She closes her eyes and imagines Tony's arms around her, his chest against her back, his lips near her ear.
"Michelle, my belle -- " He sings softly, teasingly, knowing her reaction to the song. The nickname was sweet the first time she heard it, but a lot of men she met thought they were very original in referring to the song. Tony used to sing it in Spanish to her, his fingertips stroking her shoulder, her side, her hair and she'd close her eyes, falling back to sleep. They discovered that after the remarriage, when she'd be jumpy from nightmares and only his voice tied her to reality. Sometimes she had to remind him he was with her, too. She woke up alone now, shaken by nightmares that were more memory than fantasy. She couldn't stop imagining Tony's last moments and maybe the worst part were her own screams as the gunshot went off and they kept pulling her away from his body.
But she went to lunch with her mom and running with Chris and could pretend that things were getting better because it was only at night that she heard Tony's voice and only when she was alone that she talked to him.
"I found at least four flaws in their security measures," she told him, relating her work of yesterday, not surprised at the silence in response.
She knew he wasn't there but there was nothing wrong with pretending, was there?
She rests her hand on her abdomen, knowing that she is never truly alone now.
"I'll only be like this until you're born, I promise."
Tears slip down her face, and she holds herself tightly, breathing through the breakdown.
She looks up at the mirror again, wishing she could close her eyes and have him be behind her, for God to make an exception just this once.
Milliways changed so much.
Hope is a poor substitute for rationality.