Ohhh, THAT'S what she meant. Okay. Yikes, over-dramatic.
Today started out much like yesterday. Got up, attended to Fynn (boy eats like a starving horse and poops as much), took him around the Dauphine to show him off, and sat down in front of Libby's cabin. Had to puzzle out a way to get her out of the cabin… or to get myself in.
I tried a few different approaches. All were ultimately futile.
- I tempted her with a variety of foods she likes. I figured a hamburger would lure her out of hiding. I was wrong.
- I tried to force her out by jamming a big wad of onions into the space under her door, hoping the smell would drive her to seek fresh air. She simply opened the porthole inside for some fresh air. Rats.
- I began unscrewing the hinges on the door so I could take it down… until Libby yelled that a screwdriver could, technically, be used as a weapon. Dropped it faster than a teetotaler drops booze.
- Last, I played with Fynn outside the door, speaking loudly about how cute he is, and how his mommy should come play with him, too. All I got in return is silence, though I'm pretty sure she was listening at the door.
After two hours of pondering, my boy squashing my lap and cooing as he played with my fingers, I was on the cusp of giving up. I didn't know what to do. You can't force Libby to do something she doesn't wanna do, not if you like the arrangement of your face. My thoughts turned to my other duties on the Dauphine -
- and then flip-flopped when the wet-nurse knocked on Libby's door and announced herself. Libby opened the door, gave me a quick glare around the edge, and slammed it shut once the woman was in. A few minutes later the woman walked out again.
I boggled at her. "Wh… what was that?"
The woman hefted a bag of towels over her shoulder. "What?"
"That. How'd you get in?"
The woman smiled apologetically, shifted her bonnet a little, and stooped to tickle Fynn. "Ever since the, er, pregnancy, I've been visiting Libby every couple o' hours. Bring her a spot of food, clean her up, check the scar on 'er stomach. No big deal. Queen Daena ordered it, 'n so it is."
"Oh." An idea formed. "That's a nice bonnet."
Three hours later, after a quick shift in maintenance, I returned to Libby's cabin. And when I did, I had a bonnet covering my face, a dress masking my body, and a bag of towels and food slung over my shoulder. I knocked, and asked for admittance in a shrill voice, and Libby cautiously let me in.
Ever one for dramatics, I quickly tore the bonnet away. "Special delivery! One husband!"
Bad move. She nearly shoved me back out the door. Only my fingernails, biting into the walls, saved the day.
"I'M NOT GONNA DIVORCE YA!" I shouted, straining against Libby's might as her arms crushed my back. "S'NOT THE FIRST TIME YOU'VE LOCKED YOURSELF IN SOMEPLACE! I FORGIVE YOU!"
Libby faltered a little. "L… locked? The fuck you talkin' about?"
I pushed my advantage. "Ngh… I'm not… that… upset… 'bout you stain' in here… I mean, you've got a big scar, now, right? S'natural you might wanna hide it for a bit -"
Libby's arms slackened. She drooped, staring at me incredulously with bloodshot eyes. "You've… you've gotta be kiddin'. You really don't get what's wrong, do you?"
"Uh." I peered around the cabin, wondering if it might clue me in. All I noticed was a big pile of used tissues and a few food wrappers. "I… I guess not…?"
Suddenly exhausted, Libby slouched to her bed, fell on it, and motioned for me to join her. I did.
"How's… how's the kid?" she asked. "Fynn? How is he?"
"He's great." I beamed. "Barfed on me twice today already. Smells like an old blanket. Farts're pretty potent. Cries a little too often. Got a smile like an angel."
Libby shuddered. I'm not sure if it was relief or horror. "That's… uh… yeah. So… so… you're not… like…"
I cautiously placed a hand on her shoulder. "Not what?"
She lowered her eyes. "Mad?"
"Mad 'bout what?"
She whacked me lightly on the back of the head. "His skin colour, you fuckin' moron. He's black. Don't you care about that?"
"Oh." I rubbed my throbbing wound. Libby's light whacks are still potent. "Well. I mean, it's kinda weird, but these things happen, right? I mean, I figured a chocolate kid would come from a chocolate dad, but Fynn is my kid, so… these things… I guess they just happen."
Libby's crushing hug, and the tears that followed, swallowed my world. I held her for almost an hour. She said much, denied much, and most of it blew past me in a blur of words and emotion. I assured her that everything would be alright.
And, for the moment, it is. Libby finally left her room to visit with her baby boy. She thinks he smells bad, and is a little freaked out by his size, but otherwise? I think she likes Fynn just fine.
The way she looks at him, though… when she thinks I'm not watching…
There's something in that look. Something I should maybe worry about.
Huh.
Chocolate skin.
What… what does that mean?
Sincerely,
Dragomir the Daddy
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