Table of Contents [Report This]
Printer Chapter or Story


- Text Size +
Author's Chapter Notes:

Inspiration: Accidental Babies




Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.


Well I know I make you cry...and I know sometimes you want to die...but do you really feel alive without me ~ Accidental Babies - Damien Rice

 

~`~

 

"Pancakes," Lincoln wrapped a hairy arm around my middle and tugged me from the serenity of the only remaining dry portion of the sheets, "We should have pancakes." This side of my best friend, my lover, set every fear within me at ease. Waking up in his arms, was the perfect start of the day, almost as delectable as the taste of said pancakes melting on my tongue.

 

Yes, I missed mornings like these.

 

Nights filled with silly conversations, sharing secrets, and making love until my muscles felt like they would scream. His lips trailed my neck, pausing for a moment of pleasure and his first and second favorite nipples, before he settled on the on the soft flesh of my belly. A coil of fear twined its way around my internal organs and for a brief second I swore I felt a kick. That he could feel that kick. I cursed myself silently for being silly, seven weeks, my baby was the size of a lima bean, a lentil, or a chick pea, there was no way he could tell. I focused on the man determined to hold me hostage in bed for most of the day while torturing me with the idea of a meal prepared by his hands and maybe a few more scintillating sexual encounters.

 

How did I ever...let him go...

 

Lincoln's kisses continued and the discomfort tickled and teased me all the same, "Linc shit... stop that tickles." He continued, splaying his hand across my belly, showering affection that alternated between gentle and aggressive, "Quit it, shit, I'm going to pee."

 

It was only after that confession and my sprint from the bed that he stopped. A round of baritone laughter followed me into the bathroom and Lincoln soon joined me. He rested his six foot three frame against the door and folded his arms across his chest, "What are you going to do watch me pee?"

 

"You're beautiful," His eyes glazed over with unshed tears, "I don't want to lose a moment with you?"

 

I couldn't ignore the sentiment in his voice or the words he refused to speak. I hated this part, the simultaneous guilt and dread. I loved him. I had confessed my feelings aloud the night before and now I was discontented and ready to go back to business as usual.

 

Mistress and wife...

 

Friend and lover...

 

Sinner and saint...

 

During this trip, our time together would be shortened by the arrival of the respective significant others in each of our lives, since they would be attending my show that evening, "Can I just pee alone, I promise not to climb out of the window."

 

My voice cracked and I knew the battle with my tumultuous emotions would soon end. I had yet to suffer from morning sickness, tender breasts, or bizarre cravings. I could however, cry at the drop of a hat and curse the hell out of a cabbie that obviously purchased his license from the web.

 

"When are you going to tell me what's going on with you?"

 

I proceeded with my morning routine. I flushed, started the shower, and moved to the sink to brush my teeth.

 

"Mother Earth is going to put a hit out on your sexy little ass," He grabbed my behind for effect, "For the way you waste water?"

 

I ignored Lincoln, concentrated on my molars, while I sung my scales through a foam filled mouth.

 

"It doesn't go away just because we don't talk about it," He moved behind me and grabbed a section of my locs and began to twist, "I don't want them there..."

 

The final straw landed on my back and I erupted, "Let it go Linc, not now, not ever, we're not talking about it." I pulled his shirt over my head and disappeared behind the beveled glass.

 

When I emerged from my purification, the sheets had been changed, my clothes for the day were folded neatly across the bed, and the scent of vanilla hung heavy in the air. The tears started of their own volition.

 

Pregnant...

 

I remembered the day well; I bought three Clearblue Easy tests, two EPTs, and one of the cheap store brands for a fraction of the cost. I lined them all up on my bathroom counter and read the results one by one. The next day I listened to the nurse at my OB/GYN confirm was six positive test results already told me. Two weeks later I stared at the mass on the ultrasound screen as a technician rolled the wand around my still flat belly and my doctor went on and on about the changes my body and my baby would undergo in the next seven months and twenty - eight days.

 

When I dressed and joined him in his office, Dr. Malik retrieved a calendar from his desk and began his journey backwards in time until he landed on what he believed to be the date of conception. I didn't have to think about it or turn my eyes to the page. I knew it well; it was the last night I had spent with Lincoln. He placed the paper on his desk, sat back in his chair, and released a sigh, "Sydney, I say this as your friend, what the fuck?" Malik was a friend and my favorite neighbor. He kept the best wine chilled and ready to be poured when I came knocking. He listened to my rants and raves, when I came home from the road, and my dalliances with Lincoln. "What are you going to do?"

 

I shook my head, "I don't know."

 

I didn't know then and I sure as hell don't know now.

 

Dressing without crying had become a chore. I swore my jeans were tighter than they were the week before, my bra didn't fit the same, and part of me would rather die, than face the heartache the life inside of me would bring.

 

I grudgingly left the bedroom and tentatively made my way to the kitchen. There was a plate and juice waiting on the counter for me. Lincoln turned to greet me, a smudge of batter on his cheek and I quelled the urge to lick it off his face. His smile was not as bright, his eyes were heavy with worry, and it was then I noticed the cell phone, haphazardly tossed across the room.

 

One phone call coupled with our bathroom disagreement and the mood had changed.

 

"I'm sorry."

 

I know I sounded like a broken record and he didn't respond to my apology immediately.

 

"I have a lot going on inside of my head."

 

The spatula guided by his hand flipped another pancake, encouraging me to continue.

 

"I'm pregnant."

 

His back went straight before the plate in his hand fell to the ground and he closed the distance between us. His face was wet with tears in seconds. I accepted the kisses he offered. I relished the feel of his hands and lips on my belly. My heart clenched and shattered into a thousand pieces when he realized the complications my news added to our lives.

 

It was Lincoln who finally broke the silence between us. He was still on his knees, ear pressed against my stomach, and his hands holding onto me for dear life, "What are we going to do?"

 

I slid to my knees and wrapped my arms around his neck and began to cry, "I don't know."

 

 

 

 

           










You must login (register) to review.