Mama, You've Been On My Mind
Title: Mama, You've Been On My Mind
Summary: She never loved a creature more than she loved that baby.
Characters: Emily Linus, Roger Linus
Rating: G
Notes: Another backstory. I'm really feeling this lately. Might do a second part to this that explored Roger's past and then another that explores Ben's childhood before the island.
People used to tell her she could be an actress or a model. Emily Linus wanted to be a mother. And it made her parents mad as hell, but she already had a name picked out.
I'll call him Benjamin.
Benjamin's a God damned Bible name, her father would say. Pick somethin' in the family at least. But she was rooted in it, clung to it like a blanket. The thought of being a mother was uplifting, like a breath of fresh air.
She's certain she only married Roger because of it.
He was older than her, and not nearly as refined as her other suitors. As the men her mother had picked for her. You're classy, baby doll. You gotta marry good so you can have your Benjamin. But Emily didn't want to marry good. She wanted to marry spectacularly. She wanted to marry and forge through life with the force of a thousand hurricanes, like storms that blew off the ocean and hit her sorry little Arkansas town with winds that knocked the roofs off of houses. And Roger Linus loved her.
She never told him what she would name the baby, and he never asked. That should have been a sign to be worried, but there was no way to know, no way to understand. Her heart ached and she craved lentils, gnashing them with her back teeth until she'd ground them into a fine silt that layered her cheeks. At night, the baby kicked and she would sing something soft, something her mother would sing. Delta Dawn, what's that flower you have on? Emily bravely wore a swim suit to the beach when they moved to Oregon, relishing in the wind on her bare skin, her hands ghosting over her protruding belly, imagining what he'd be like, grow up to do. All the things he'd see.
She'd never loved a creature more than she loved that baby.
When he was born, there in the woods, on a day Roger'd insisted they hike, she knew something was wrong. She woke up with that restless feeling, and the baby was kicking, hard. Calm down, baby cakes, she whispered, resting her hand on her stomach. Be good for mama.
She felt the blood more than she saw it. And she knew she was going to die. For a few moments, she got to be a mother. To God, she thought, it must have been a small light. It flashed and then went out, like a wind to a candle. Her eyes grew unfocused. Gripping his arm, she called to him. Roger?
He loved her. Too much.
Call him Benjamin.
Summary: She never loved a creature more than she loved that baby.
Characters: Emily Linus, Roger Linus
Rating: G
Notes: Another backstory. I'm really feeling this lately. Might do a second part to this that explored Roger's past and then another that explores Ben's childhood before the island.
People used to tell her she could be an actress or a model. Emily Linus wanted to be a mother. And it made her parents mad as hell, but she already had a name picked out.
I'll call him Benjamin.
Benjamin's a God damned Bible name, her father would say. Pick somethin' in the family at least. But she was rooted in it, clung to it like a blanket. The thought of being a mother was uplifting, like a breath of fresh air.
She's certain she only married Roger because of it.
He was older than her, and not nearly as refined as her other suitors. As the men her mother had picked for her. You're classy, baby doll. You gotta marry good so you can have your Benjamin. But Emily didn't want to marry good. She wanted to marry spectacularly. She wanted to marry and forge through life with the force of a thousand hurricanes, like storms that blew off the ocean and hit her sorry little Arkansas town with winds that knocked the roofs off of houses. And Roger Linus loved her.
She never told him what she would name the baby, and he never asked. That should have been a sign to be worried, but there was no way to know, no way to understand. Her heart ached and she craved lentils, gnashing them with her back teeth until she'd ground them into a fine silt that layered her cheeks. At night, the baby kicked and she would sing something soft, something her mother would sing. Delta Dawn, what's that flower you have on? Emily bravely wore a swim suit to the beach when they moved to Oregon, relishing in the wind on her bare skin, her hands ghosting over her protruding belly, imagining what he'd be like, grow up to do. All the things he'd see.
She'd never loved a creature more than she loved that baby.
When he was born, there in the woods, on a day Roger'd insisted they hike, she knew something was wrong. She woke up with that restless feeling, and the baby was kicking, hard. Calm down, baby cakes, she whispered, resting her hand on her stomach. Be good for mama.
She felt the blood more than she saw it. And she knew she was going to die. For a few moments, she got to be a mother. To God, she thought, it must have been a small light. It flashed and then went out, like a wind to a candle. Her eyes grew unfocused. Gripping his arm, she called to him. Roger?
He loved her. Too much.
Call him Benjamin.