» her sympathy, tenderness
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Grace Fall's Residence,
Monday, March 6th, 2009
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It was late morning, almost eleven thirty, when Grace finally awoke, hung-over and seedy. She swallowed, grimacing at the bitter taste in her mouth and the congested feeling in her chest. She moved to hang her legs over the side of the mattress, swinging them pensively before pulling herself from the bed and stumbling towards the bathroom, scrubbing a hand across her face. She looked awful: her eyes were bloodshot, her cheeks blotchy and there was a collection of crust at the crook of her lips that was either saliva or vomit (she did down an entire bottle shop during the night). Her hair was limp against her forehead, and the skin beneath her eyes was dark and as thin as rice paper.
Still, it was justified -- who the ******** would send her another child? She was the complete opposite of maternal, and while she wasn't a bad mother, she wasn't a particularly good one either. Angus was probably having field day at the thought of her struggling with another drooling toddler, the twisted s**t -- raising one child had already pushed her to the limit, how the hell was she supposed to raise two? Goddamn it, she hadn't even wanted children to begin with. Grace felt the blood start to drain from her face, her limbs feeling strangely weighted and her feet rooted to the floor. She shook herself sharply, trying to focus -- there was nothing she could do but accept the situation. That cabbage was going to pop out a kid eventually, and she was going to have to clean it, feed it, entertain it and raise ******** ******** ******** ******** ******** lip twitched wryly, a heavy leaden feeling settling into her chest. She swallowed hard and slumped, turning her still skeptical gaze toward the cabbage settled comfortably against her bed-side table, her shoulders sagging. The rest of the day passed in something of a blur. Grace made herself and Lucien food and ate it, lost herself in playing with him, looking after him, fighting the urge to pace restlessly and trying desperately not to think about how on earth she was going to pull off looking after another child.
Falling back into bed, Grace pulled a pillow from the side opposite to her, hugging it tightly to her chest and breathing deeply. She was alone, aching and desperately missing the feel of anothers chest rising and falling beneath her ear -- the warmth that radiated between two bodies curled around each other; someone to share this disaster of a situation with, to help guide her in the right direction. Lucien stood silently at the foot of the bed, bundled in his over-sized pajamas and blanket, gazing down at Grace's drawn-in figure. The older woman's cheeks were wet with tears, visible in the moonlight that leaked through the small window. The small boy lowered himself onto the mattress, crawling towards Grace and settling behind her, his arms wrapping around her waist.
Grace started, twisting around and grabbing Lucien by the shoulders, but her expression softened at the sight of the boy. She pulled him over her body and onto the pillow beside her, tucking his blanket around his sides and leaning forward to kiss his forehead.
She supposed he was enough for now.
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