mallory_quinn (mallory_quinn) wrote in low_tide, @ 2009-12-08 13:47:00 |
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Entry tags: | mallory quinn, npc |
Full Disclosure
The apartment was clean, dinner was cooked and eaten, and the dishes had been washed and put in the drying rack. The sun had been down for a couple of hours by now, and a floorlamp illuminated a spot around the slightly worn armchair near the center of the room. The last cup of coffee from the pot cooled on the table next to the chair. A strangely domestic scene, all things considered.
Mallory lived by herself in the apartment on Greene Street, and the landlord told her that she was one of her best tenants. She kept the place clean, she paid the rent on time, and she even recycled, dropping her plastic bottles and cans into the collection kiosk in the parking lot. With the exception of the clothes-chucking incident, there had been no problems.
The redhead had relented and gathered up Dominic's stuff, then bagged it in one big garbage bag for if he showed up to get his things. Without washing them. Let him deal with the sand in his jeans. She was not his maid or his mother. In his sleep, Tuffy the bulldog chuffed, his short back legs kicking as if he chased rabbits in his dreams. Mallory flipped the page of the newspaper she was reading, moved on to the classifieds. Sometimes, she really relished a quiet evening at home.
Dom was a little buzzed. Just enough to feel like he was floating a few feet above reality. He didn't like being close to his problems; hell, he didn't even like knowing what his problems were. But he felt like he was forgetting something, like going out and leaving the stove on. And Mallory was the stove. He was quite certain she wouldn't like that comparison. She wouldn't like half the things that ran through his head concerning her. He always made himself a little blank around her, and that's where that whole distance thing came in. Again.
Sighing and shuffling his feet over the dirty mat, Dom knocked on the door. The light was on, so he knew Mallory was at home. He had been stupid, and started thinking of it as his home, for awhile. Stupid.
The knock startled her, and the dog lifted his head and barked once before returning to his dozing. Newspaper crinkled as Mallory folded that day's edition up and set it aside, and she snagged her coffee cup and made her way over to the door. It was probably Mr. Hamlin, who was eighty-six years old and often needed help taking his garbage out. She didn't mind being a good neighbor.
"Oh." She'd left the porch light on as it got dark since she'd needed to retrieve the mail, and the yellow glow turned Dominic's black hair a strange orange color. Mallory's shoulder's slumped, but she quickly recovered and straightened her posture. He could have at least had the decency to come by while she wasn't here.
"Your stepmom kick you out?" His father had asked him to come to Miami and move some stuff, but if he was here it probably meant that Leslie had gotten fed up with him. Leslie didn't suffer fools. Mallory was thinking of asking her for some advice on that. "And if you're drunk you're not coming in here."
"Hey, Mal." He tried to smile, look endearing and appear sober all at once. It ended up looking more like a pained grimace. He peered past her shoulder into the apartment and felt a slight pang of regret that he quickly shoved aside.
"Nah, she..." Dom trailed off, closing his eyes for a brief second before opening them again. "Kind of. She said I need to straighten things out first. I..." And then his eyes fell on the trash bag.
"Is that my stuff?"
"You left some clothes here, a couple of pairs of jeans and two shirts. I was going to leave them out in the yard, but Ms. Graves tacked a note on the door asking me to pick them up. I didn't want to make problems, so I bagged them up for you."
She already had her arms folded, having crossed them over her breasts when it became apparent that he wasn't going to go away in the first five minutes. Shielding herself from him and reminding herself that this man was not her boyfriend. "How many beers have you had?"
He shifted his weight from foot to foot. "Nice of you," he remarked. Had he left things there? Dominic eyed the bag again. "I had like two beers, and that was over an hour ago. I swear, I'm not drunk. Can I just come in? We can talk, and then I'll go. Promise." His eyes met hers, and he smiled again. It was like old times, really. Talking his way into her apartment, her life. Dom was never sure where exactly they stood, but he had liked it like that. It was exciting, and he didn't feel tied down. He had just assumed that was how Mallory wanted it, too.
He was like a puppy, even worse than Tuffy, and she couldn't stand it. He didn't realize things had changed yet. Would it be fair not to tell him? She was twenty-three, he was twenty-six. Why did she feel like she was about ten years older right now?
"Get in here before one of the neighbors sees you." She said it with a sort of sour good humor, stepping aside just enough so that he could enter the apartment without touching her. At least the dog liked him. "But don't get comfortable."
"I wouldn't dream of it," he answered with a smirk, entering the apartment. Dom nudged the bag with his toe, as if it were a living creature. "Sorry for leaving this stuff here," he added, not sounding entirely sincere. And then he turned and took in Mallory fully. After a moment, an eyebrow arched. "You...look different. Did you do something with your hair?"
It was only a vague difference, nothing he could put a finger on. Maybe it would have been easier if he were sober; he had downplayed his consumption by about three drinks.
Mallory was back by the chair by now. She needed distance between them so that she could think. At least he hadn't tried to put his hands on her, which meant he had at least a portion of his wits about him. With Dom, she'd take what she could get.
"How was Miami?" Trying to keep things neutral for now. "Did you get any money for the moving thing?"
He stood by the counter, the smile not leaving his face. "You didn't answer me," Dom pointed out. Now he was getting more curious, but he kept a lid on it. He gave a noncommital shrug as he tapped his fingers lightly against the tiled surface. "Yeah, but not much. Enough to hold me over for awhile." He glanced around the apartment. For the most part, it remained unchanged. Dominic supposed he had expected Mallory to stay the same, as well. "I was actually pretty well-behaved in Miami," he told her. "You know, for me."
They had met six months ago, when she had just moved down to the Keys, and even then she'd known him for the partying type, but he'd been cute and sort of charming. She'd been thinking things over after the failed attempt at college, and when they'd crossed paths something about him had just struck her the right way. Did he deserve to know? Did she have the right not to tell him?
"I'm pregnant."
It was the first time she'd said those actual words out loud, and she was hugging herself so tightly now that her knuckles were a little white from the pressure. See if that didn't wipe the smile off of his face.
He shook his head, but even he wasn't clear if it was because he didn't believe her or, somehow, by doing so he would negate the truth of it. "What? When?" Dom's smile gradually turned into a tense frown. "How?"
Well, he knew how, of course -- knew quite well, actually -- but he supposed what he was really saying was 'How could you?' And he immediately and appropriately felt ashamed of himself, as evidenced by the tinge of red now creeping into his cheeks. He took a small step toward her, palm held out slightly as if asking for something.
She grabbed his wrist and used the grip to put his hand on her stomach, flattening his palm over the very slight swell of her belly before laying her hand on top of his. Wanting him to acknowledge it, to admit that he was part of this. She would probably end up doing most of this on her own, but she wanted him to own up to his side of it.
"I'm almost three months along," she said, her voice sharper than before. "The doctor says I'm in perfect health otherwise. That there's no reason I shouldn't be able to carry the baby to term." Baby. Such a big word for having only four letters. Mallory pressed Dom's hand tighter to her stomach because if she didn't she'd end up slapping him. "We're going to be parents."
He swallowed thickly, staring down at their hands. Hers seemed to burn him. "Is that what you've...you've decided?" Dominic knew Mallory could have a temper, pregnant or not. He didn't like being on the receiving end of it. He knew that what she said went. We're going to be parents. In about six more months, there would be a little human being, a living thing that connected Dominic with her, someone who required care and time and...responsibility. He swore his life flashed before his eyes at that moment.
"God, Mal, I...I'm sorry." The young man pulled back, looking slightly afraid. "I didn't know this would happen. I mean, it doesn't really occur to you, does it?" He laughed shakily, his buzz wearing off rapidly.
And maybe she had; maybe she had made a permanent decision as to what would happen down the road. She'd already decided that terminating the pregnancy was not an option. However she felt about the circumstances or about Dom, the child was innocent.
"I had thought of going back to school," she said aloud, and some small, mean part of her was enjoying watching him fidget. This was her life being derailed too, after all. "I don't know what's going to happen with that now." The redhead let out a breath through her nose, exhaling slowly. The living room felt very small suddenly, and she moved into the kitchen to stand by the sink. The window needed cleaning, there were fingerprints on the glass and dust on the sill. She must have missed those details earlier.
"What do you want to do?"
Dom sighed. He wasn't about to go into the whole 'are you sure it's mine?' spiel. For one thing, it was horrifically cliche, and for another, he didn't feel like being that much of a supreme ass, which was rare for him. Usually, he didn't even care.
"I want to help you," he told her. "I'll try, really hard. If you want me to go, I'll go. If you want me to stay, I can do that, too." He scratched his ear, looking down at the linoleum floor. "Do you know what it is? The gender?"
"No. I didn't have a sonogram. Maybe in a few months." Mallory touched her stomach, felt the indentation of her navel through her shirt. There was a new life in there. "And don't say 'it'. It's a baby, not a Dalmatian." She wished she could be not angry with him, but that would involve him being an adult and not an eight-year-old in a man's body. Why had she been so stupid?
"How much money do you have in your pockets right now?"
Dom paled a bit. "Um, well...maybe eight dollars? But that's because I had to put gas in the car, and..." He trailed off, realized the point she was making. "I can get a job," he told her, the words rolling reluctantly from his lips. "I can stop going out. And I know Leslie would help." He began pacing a bit, a bad habit that came up in times of stress. "There's also some stuff I could sell."
He stopped and looked at her. The quiet disappointment and disdain she was radiating was almost worse than being yelled at. "I know you really don't like me that much," he told her. "And okay, I can see why. But I'm not heartless. You have to know that."
Eight dollars. Mallory stifled the sigh, knowing it wouldn't do any good. He did feel bad, she knew that, and realy that was the worst part. If he'd been a bastard she could've dealt with it. If he'd been a bastard she wouldn't have told him at all. She turned away from the window, looked him over.
"I don't...I don't dislike you," she clarified carefully. "If I did, we wouldn't be talking about this particular subject. But I'm going to need things in the next few month. We're going to need things." Touching her stomach again, letting him see her do it. "Whether or not you can help with that is up to you, and I can't figure that part out for you. Okay?"
"I want to. I'll make it happen." Dom walked to the door and picked up the garbage bag with his belongings. "You probably don't want me to stay here," he told her. It wasn't a question. He wasn't going to push, because things were going to get rocky enough on their own, very soon. He had to call his step-mother, he had to call his friends and see who was hiring. Dominic needed a real night's sleep first, and so did Mallory. Like the saying went, it was later than he thought.
And no, she didn't want him there for the night, not while her head was so jumbled up. Separate corners for both of them would help them think. She was going to have to check her address book, see if she had Leslie's phone number. If nothing else, she'd need that as leverage to keep Dominic in line. "You going back to Miami? Are you all right to drive?"
"I'm going to crash at a friend's place. He doesn't live that far from you, and I cleared it with him earlier," Dom told her. "He knows some people who run a construction company, so maybe I can get a good word in." And then he leaned in toward her, and placed a short, tentative kiss on her warm cheek. It was already slightly fuller, and he noticed it more now that he knew the reason for it. "I'll call you tomorrow. And if you need someone to go to appointments and stuff with you, I'm here." He gave her a slightly imploring look.
"'Night, Mallory."
His hair brushed her jawline, and she wanted to hug him, if only because they could both use the emotional support. But she couldn't quite bring herself to put her arms around this man-child, and so the moment passed without contact. "Be safe, Dom. Don't get pulled over. I'll let you know if I need anything."
After he left, she closed the door behind him and locked it, then rested her forehead against the doorjamb. Well, at least that was over. And he hadn't been horrible. whether he could straighten up or not, be a man, was anyone's guess. She had a little over six months to find out.
NPC Dominic was written by Jessica