Prompt Post No. 19
Welcome to Round 19 of the Inception Kink Meme.
Prompting System
Prompting System
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Less than a year ago, Eames had always known what he would do if he ever discovered he was pregnant. He had never been infused with the desire to pro-create and he relished that fact that he made a living from being a thief and trickster, stealing and shape-shifting his way from dream to dream, continent to continent, constantly playing a game of hide and seek with the people he crossed. His life was so wonderfully selfish and fantastically dangerous that it left no room for a child.
But when his doctor had informed one bright day in mid-July that the reason he’d been feeling so rundown was because he was pregnant, just for a moment, Eames was so overwhelmed with happiness that he almost forgot exactly who he was. His joy quickly spilled out of him when he did remember and he requested to have the pregnancy terminated.
A week later, Eames was sat in a waiting room of a family health clinic in West London. It was painted with tranquil colours and decorated with faded abstract prints. In front of the reception desk there were three long rows of lurid blue plastic chairs were peppered with people and they all faced a large fish tank stuck into the wall. The fish inside looked abnormally large so Eames guessed the tank was made from acrylic and his eyes followed a silver minnow that was darting about as tried not focus on how ill he felt.
Tiredness had been wedged inside his bones for weeks and he was unbearably warm. He was also battling rolling waves of nausea that had plagued him since he passed a collection of cafes earlier which oozed with the scent of coffee and his jaw was clenched so tight that the pain travelled up his ears and into his temples. He could still taste bitter bile that had gushed up in the morning.
Eames turned his wrist and checked the time on his watch, the gold face glinting from the artificial lighting. He’d already been waiting for quarter of an hour and he contemplated sneaking out for a few large lungfuls of air before receiving his treatment.
He’d had the initial appointment the previous day and he was told that he had only just missed the window for swallowing a couple of pills as his scan showed that he was nine and a half weeks along. Up until that point he hadn’t been sure who he was pregnant by but when the nurse told him, he easily worked out that the cluster of cells that had been multiplying inside him were there because of Arthur, brilliant Arthur with his sharp mouth and sharper suits who’d fucked him one whiskey-soaked night in Berlin and scarpered rather quickly the following morning.
Time seemed to slide ever so slowly by in the waiting room and eventually Eames began to fidget. He fiddled with his wallet chain and pretended to dust something away from his dark oxfords. He played with his bottom lip and took out his poker chip from his inky-blue tweed jacket pocket and rolled the red disc back and forth over his knuckles a few times before pocketing it. He watched the fish float and zip amongst the vibrant plastic plants that shifted languorously in the water with their movement and it hit him like a crack of wood across the cheekbone that he couldn’t go through with the abortion.
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“Coo-eeeeeeee!” is the first thing that booms out of Eames’ laptop after he had reluctantly accepted the video-call request from his mother and the sudden burst of noise caused Eames to jump out of his sleep-deprived state and William startled in his snug bouncer chair that was on the tiled floor.
The only reason he had was because it was Thursday evening and he guessed he hadn’t said four-hundred words since the start of the week and he’d ignored most of the phone calls she had been bombarding him with since William was born.
She had morphed into an overbearing nightmare when he returned to his childhood home in Guildford for the first time in years, sixth month pregnant with the need for comfort and security outweighing his suspicions that it would be unbearable, humiliating and sadistic experience.
All notions of privacy became redundant as his mother insisted on knowing every detail of his pregnancy and whenever he requested some breathing space from her endless invasiveness disguised as help he was reminded how he never visited or called anymore. His father had been the same as ever, quiet and invisible unless he was disappointed or doling out punishment. Eames weathered hours of being talked at about responsibility, about how as a child he was sneaky and selfish and hadn’t changed, that he hadn’t done much with his life unlike his perfect older brother. He managed to stay two weeks before fleeing to Kiev.
“Alright, mum?” said Eames in dull tone, sliding down the volume and picking up the dummy from the coffee table in front him. He shoved it in William’s mouth to stop him whimpering and he settled himself on the battered brown sofa.
“How’s William?” said his mother, her pink lips pulled back into a wide smile, her russet-dyed curls bouncing away as she squirmed with delight, rubbing her wrinkled hands over each other, the decadent rings on her fingers glittering away.
“A bundle of joy,” Eames replied, clamping a smile on his face.
“Thank you so much for sending the photos. I’ve shown them to everyone and they’ve all said he’s a bonnie looking lad.”
“That’s nice.”
“Already a month old, I can’t believe it. Can you?”
Eames shook his head. Each day was so formless and only about killing time between feedings and nappy changing that it all bled together to create one great yawn.
“And how are you doing?”
“Fine, everything is fine.”
“You should count your lucky stars then.” His mother flashed him a grin before her face dissolved in to a solemn look. “Just you wait a few months when he is more alert because you will be rushed off your feet. It’s going to feel like absolute hell sometimes and you’ll never have time for yourself but that’s what life is like with a baby. And that’s what it will be like for the rest of your life.”
Eames just smiled.
“You look so tired,” she said and she sounded so disapproving, as if he had been out on a twenty-four hour binge of alcohol and hard drugs and was now suffering an excruciating hangover. “You should sleep when he sleeps, you know.”
“Yeah, I’ll look into that.”
“I’m only trying to share my wisdom. I know it’s hard to believe but I did raise you and Alexander,” his mother said airily before producing a comically sad clown face. “Are you sure you’re okay? I imagine it must be hard being a new and single father.”
“I’m fine,” he gritted out.
“Well, good,” said his mother, looking positively triumphant. “You were so loopy from all those hormones last time we saw you, talking nonsense about adoption. And I know you've never liked children, my sweetheart, goodness knows you treated your nieces as if they were diseased when they were babies but when it’s your own it’s different. I bet the moment he was placed in your arms you fell in love with him."
His mother gave him a warm smile. "There is nothing quite like it, is there?"
Eames realised after a few moments of blinking that he had absolutely nothing to say so he feigned surprise that William was awake and he swivelled the laptop, angling the screen so the web camera looked down so his mother could see her grandson.
She let out long, contented sigh. “Oh, Daniel. You really have been blessed with such a beauty."
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“I said, you’ve been blessed with such a beauty,” she repeated loudly.
"I know. Thanks.”
“He doesn’t really look like you.”
“He doesn’t really look like anyone,” Eames replied, shifting his gaze to William and his mop of dark hair, the eyes that were the shape of tiny bay leaves, the delicate dimple in his chin.
“Although, he is a wee bit small. Are you feeding him enough?”
“Yes.”
“But is your milk satisfying to him? Are you eating the right nutrients?”
“I’m using formula. I told you that.”
His mother tutted. “Poor thing. Is your daddy not feeding you properly, my little sugarplum?”
“He eats plenty,” Eames snapped out but he doubted his mother heard him. She had started babbling in a sing-song way, telling William that he was bonnie and perfect, how precious he was and lucky to be so loved and wanted and Eames rolled eyes and pulled his dark, loose sweatpants down over his ankles that for months had been so swollen.
His ankles seemed like the only things that weren’t still distorted by pregnancy. His stomach was doughy and adorned with light purple stretchmarks. A fold of fat had settled on his hips, his arse that he had once been ever so proud of had dropped by five inches and although he’d always had a scoop of softness underneath his chin there just seemed to be so much more of it. His nipples were just about the same shade, size and puffiness of teacakes and his feet had elongated themselves so much that he may as well chuck all his shoes out.
“Oh, give me a fucking break,” Eames mumbled to himself, sick of the endless cooing and primitive chatter, and William was apparently thinking the same thing as his face began to contort in such a way that meant he was going to have a meltdown. Eames hastily scooped William up, holding him close as he turned the laptop back round to face him and his mother yelped out his name in horror.
“Don’t let his head roll back like that!” his mother said, totally aghast, her dull blue eyes almost bulging out of their sockets. “Good God, you’re handling a baby!”
A nervous laugh bubbled out from her mouth and she fiddled with the neat row of pearls around her ropey neck. “Don’t you know what you are doing?”
Eames stared at his mother. “Well, you’ll notice that he isn’t dead yet so I must not be messing things up completely.”
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Hoping for more!
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http://inception-kink.livejournal.com/17669.html?thread=38398213#t38398213
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