Lucy Barton

“Anytime,” Tom replied and looked around the kitchen. “ Want me to put the kettle on for a coffee, you take a seat and I’ll do this.” He said and started to fill the kettle, scoffing at the comment she made. “ I know that feeling all too well,” Tom admitted. “I used to eat when Ellie was asleep. Small meals kept me going.” Turning and facing her as he switched the kettle on, Tom smiled. “ Well at least he is trying, some guys don’t.” Tom then found some ups and gave Lucy a warm smile. “ That’s all that really matters right? the fact that the baby is happy and healthy.”

Lucy sighed, sitting down in one of the kitchen bar stools and letting him take over her kitchen for the next little while. “The mugs are up in the cabinet to the left of the microwave whenever you’re ready for them.” She smiled and nodded. “I’m pretty sure the only reason we evolved to think they’re cute is so we don’t kill them in our exhaustion.” Nodding again, she was thankful Cary stepped in every once in a while. It just wasn’t at all how she had pictured parenthood, and really not how she had pictured parenthood with Cary. “It’s all I can ask for.”

Harry had set up camp at his favorite cafe, curled up at the corner table with a large half-full black coffee, his laptop, his planner, and a stack of novels he was teaching this coming term. It was time to get on with finishing his lesson plans and organising his life for the next month,  something he’d started but had been putting off for a while now. He bounced his knee as he glanced over his notes, copying them in and setting up his classes online pages. He’d been told last year by a particularly proactive student that the amount of handouts he gave out was “seriously bad for the environment”, so albeit reluctantly, he’d committed to trying to make as much as the material accessible online rather than wasting his printing credits. 

After an hour of concentrating he felt himself itching for a cigarette, a break, a distraction, and so he closed his laptop, checking the barista (who he knew all too well by this point) would watch his stuff before stepping out the back entrance into a small alleyway where the smokers tended to gather. He pulled out his cigarettes and placed one between his lips, lighting it quickly and taking a long drag as he leaned back against the brick wall behind him, his shoulders relaxing as he slowly breathed it back out, not noticing a figure approaching from the side. 

She’d stacked up all the books on the floor of the aisle and suddenly felt like she couldn’t breathe. Escaping out the back, since it was closer, she wasn’t expecting to find anyone else there. “Oh, I’m sorry,” she walked further out into the alley. In through the nose. Out through the mouth. In through the nose. Out through the mouth. Repeating that mantra to herself, she kept breathing deeply until she felt reasonably okay again. 

It was bitter, the liquor running down her throat but the numbing feeling that came in the place of the twisted pain in her stomach made it worth it. Jenny lifted her hand up towards the bartender, signaling for another. If it didn’t make her feel like such a pain in the ass she would ask him to keep them coming. Her phone buzzed against the surface of the bar, the name on the screen screaming at her. It had been her brother, for the fourth time in the last hour. It was hard to admit what had happened, the fact that she not only slept with her brother’s married best friend who abandoned her the morning after to probably go back to his wife and the icing on top of the shitcake that was her life, she had ended up pregnant and three months later she lost the baby. She hadn’t told anyone the news truthfully, not knowing what she was even going to say about the whole thing but at least now she didn’t have to think of how to break the news to her family and to the father. She heard the tap of a glass hitting the bar, her fingers moved towards it, picking it up and bringing it up to her lips, drinking it down in one swift motion, not realizing that someone was slipping into the stool right next to her.

“Yes, I did,” Tom said with a wide smile. “ You got your hands full so I thought I’d help out and besides I know what you are going through.” The words hung in the air as it had two meanings. Being a single parent wasn’t new to Tom but at the same time, he never forgot the fear when it was just him and Ellie for the first time.

Tom picked up the cupcakes and the dinner and moved it into the kitchen. “ Theses are just really in case you don’t get five minutes to make yourself some dinner.” He said and then turned to her. “So… how you really doing?” His voice adopted a more caring, kind nature and a soft smile filled his face. “  I know what it’s like being a single parent.” He said softly. “ How’s the little one doing?”

“Well, thank you,” Lucy said sincerely. She genuinely hadn’t expected the community reaction to the baby to be so positive and encouraging. Except for the occasional judgmental glance from an old catechism teacher or two, everyone had been so eager to make meals or offer to help her clean or babysit so she could get out of the house - not that she was really ready to get out of the house just over a week since birth, but it was the thought that counted. Most of those people, however, were her parents’ ages. Tom was an anomaly.

“It feels like I don’t have five minutes to do anything sometimes, let alone eat,” she admitted. Even though Caleb had been an easy baby compared to some, he was still a newborn and had consistent needs that couldn’t be ignored. “I feel like I can’t really call myself a single mom, because his dad does try even if it’s not as often as I’d prefer it to be,” she shrugged, “But his pediatrician says he’s looking really good. He’s almost back up to his birth weight, and he’s eating, sleeping, and pooping. So just a normal baby.”

🌋- A memory about their first heartbreak

🏠- A memory about their childhood home/where they used to live

📷- A memory that comes with a picture they have

💡- A memory that comes with an object or keepsake they have

🔪- A memory about a dangerous situation

🎈- A memory about a time they were safe and relaxed

📔- A memory from a journal/diary entry

📝- A memory of them getting to know/meeting my muse

🔗- A memory about their proposal/wedding

🐥- A memory about their children (past, present, or future)

👘- A memory associated with an article of clothing they have

⚔️- A memory about war

🌅- A memory associated with a certain location

🏚- A memory about exploration

🛤- A memory about traveling

🌠- A time they wished upon a falling star

🐕-A memory of teamwork

🐺- A memory about being alone

🌟- WILDCARD

It was the day after Christmas and Tom had promised to pop round and see Lucy since he hadn’t seen her the day she almost delivered the baby in his car. He couldn’t help but feel responsible for her and the little bundle, especially when the nurse mistook him for the baby’s father and Tom had to explain he was just dropping her off. The moment he found out the baby had been born, Tom headed out to get a basket of goodies for Caleb and a basket for the new mom. He also bought blankets and saved a full plate of Christmas dinner for her just in case. 

Tom parked up and headed to the door with all the gifts balancing precariously in his arms. He knocked and waited. When he heard the door open, Tom chuckled, “ Hey Lucy.” He said from behind the gifts and walked in and placed everything down. “Merry Christmas.” He grinned. “ I have gifts for Caleb and some for you and I got you dinner in case you didn’t get a chance to have any. I also bought mince pies and candy for us. Oh and Mia made some cupcakes which she demanded I gave to you.” He said and gave her a hug. “ How’s mommy life going?” 

The knock on the door came just after she’d laid Caleb down for his third nap of the day, and Lucy resigned herself to the fact that whoever was there was going to see a spit-up stained ensemble as she walked to the door. “Merry Christmas, Tom,” she smiled as she let him in. “You didn’t have to do all of this, really. Though those cupcakes do look good.” Shutting the door, she walked back to the kitchen to grab the glass of water she’d poured herself... two hours ago... “It’s something else, that’s for sure. At least he sleeps well.”

Ever since running into Lucy, Sam had had her on his mind enough to ask about her to his sister, who’d been happy to announce that she’d since given birth to her son. And for Samuel, Southern Hospitality dictated he pay a visit with a home-cooked meal (courtesy of Grace Dryden, of course). The chicken and biscuit pie was clutched in a curled arm against his chest while his other hand rapped against Lucy’s front door quietly, prepared for the fact that the new infant was most likely sleeping, and the last thing Lucy needed from a visitor was the inconvenience of waking the baby.