sweetsalome: (Come hither)

More lovely work found here.
sweetsalome: (wee!sal couch)
"It's either you or a foster home, Child Welfare will have to come and pick her up or you can drop her off at the downtown office."  Out of the deck sized pack of cards she peels off one and hands it off to the man protesting the saddling of some dirty faced street urchin that was suddenly his.

"You don't seem to understand, this isn't my child, what kind of untrained, shit for brains government employee leaves a child with a strange man?  I'm not taking her anywhere, you're taking her now."

He is scary.

Standing a million feet tall, bare feet, black denim and messy hands with a cigarette smoldering somewhere up in the atmosphere around his head; she is too scared to look that far up.  It looks like blood.  

He is going to eat her, and Bear!

No, she won't let him eat Bear.

You ARE the father. Fuck you, Maury )
sweetsalome: (Puppy)
Just because school is off for Christmas break doesn't mean all of her other activities are.  There is still swim practice and ballet, everything in between.  Yeah, they have some days off, especially ballet, since their performance there is some down time before the next big thing comes along and they need to start working on that.  Salome still leaves the house early in the morning, this time for her run with the dog, or attempted run, the puppy doesn't have that whole 'lets run in a straight line with the mistress, yay! isn't this fun?' thing down yet.  So when she starts off on the run, she does only half of what she plans and then ends up carrying the ball of fur back.

It's alright, he's getting better.

After the run, there is swimming and time out of the house doing random errands and seeing random friends.  By the time that she gets back Salome is exhausted and falls asleep sprawled out on the rug with the puppy, cell phone in hand, pretty much a standard practice with any teenager born.

Usually she is more on point, but she is exhausted and didn't even think about where her father and Delilah might be.  Sometimes, it's like ships passing in the night with them.
sweetsalome: (wee!sal big eyes)
Is he sleeping?

He sleeps a lot, even during the day! 

Doesn't he know only babies nap?  Guess not.

Wee Salome learned at a tender age not to make too much noise, well, ever.  Not that she was ever a very loud child but it was easily apparent even to her that loud noises weren't something enjoyable around the house.  Outside was fine, but inside she had to be quiet. 

It's really, really, really, hard to be quiet.  Really, really, really, really, really hard.  Especially when there is nothing to do.

Bear ear between her teeth she does a slow crawl up to the couch and slowly, or as slowly as she can manage, inch up to peer over the edge of the cushion at her dad.  It's all in the eyes, if he opens his eyes then he is not asleep and she can climb up with him and try and get him to do something.  Or at least put a different video in.

She isn't allowed to play with the VCR.  Any more.

Taking the bear from her teeth she lifts it as well and lets it's floppy little legs dangle over his arm and up to his chest till Richard Vasko is nose to muzzle with stuffed bear face. 

sweetsalome: (blue dress)
The mental and physical prepping for this day was a little uneven.  Not that her dad has a lot of baking equipment, but a trip to Target and that is pretty much taken care of.  Like meeting her birth mom, there was a number of waffling moments in which she considered just backing out at the last minute.  Really it won't be the hardest thing she has ever done, but it felt a little like putting herself in harms way.  Like stepping out in front of a train or a truck with the thought that at the last minute the traveling force would somehow swerve and miss her.

There was almost a feeling as if jealousy wouldn't be the issue but doing or saying something stupid would be.  After their vacation in Virginia, Salome found herself a bit more confident in their relationship.  She was his, and he was hers, there would ever be a way for that to change.  You can't change blood, DNA, what they had.

Not to mention it all going down on a Saturday when all she would rather do is lay about and be lazy, spending a majority of the day in her pajamas.

Not that she isn't in her pajamas now, sprawled out on the couch with head phones in.  Waiting.
sweetsalome: (knees to chest)
No joke, Salome changed her mind sixteen times when trying to decided if she wanted to meet her birth mom.  It wasn't that she was scared but there was a real thought and fear that she would just lose it in the middle of the conversation and she didn't want to lose it.  Her father would get upset at Amanda and it wasn't this woman's fault that Salome can't keep it together.  Without ever sitting down to eat a family meal she was already anxious about how to handle both mom and dad - together.

Not that this woman is her mom, but she did give birth to her and that should be recognized in some way, another thing that Sal found herself anxious about.

She is going to throw up.

Sweaty palms, stomach in knots, yeah, this was going to be a pleasant sit down meal.  How could she be so easy and confident with her father but impossibly upset at the idea of meeting this stranger?  The whole idea of being rejected, that she would be looked at and passed over, again by this woman who she desperately wants approval from.  Her father's love is sealed inside of her, even if she sometimes questioned it.  This is different.

Perched on the edge of a hotel chair, head in her hands she stared at her toes, trying to will herself to take deep breaths and not freak out.  There is no reason why this should be so fucking hard.
sweetsalome: (light green dress)
The hotel cleans up when they are out enjoying breakfast and a morning walk in the beach.  It is sort of nice to come back and to have everything all clean and tidy.  As if they were helping make preperations themselves in their little activies for this afternoon.  It's a nice room, it's nice with the balcony doors open letting a breeze blow through.  It smells like cool air and the ocean and it sounds like families playing on vacation sand.

She is drinking a bottle of water, leaning against the railing, watching the brown blue of the waves crash along the sand and sweep it out into infinity.  The only thing that she is anxious about is getting started, and she tends to hurry, hurry.  Things will slow down soon enough.  A look back over her shoulder at the bed and the little hotel room. 

What a birthday.
sweetsalome: (big sunglasses)
Salome should be used to these little question sessions with her mother, they have been happening for as long as she was able to talk.  Just little sit downs, called, unexpectedly by Susan to talk about her favorite subject: Salome's father.  Sometimes she is incredibly annoyed by them, really, she gives no shits but if Susan wants so badly to know what is going on in Richard's life why doesn't she just bug his house and tap his phone like a sane woman?

It took Salome awhile to catch on, Susan can be subtle when she wants, and there was a certain bitter sadness when she put two and two together.  She didn't want to really hear about her boring day, she just wanted to hear about Richard.  At this point Salome has long stopped caring about her mother.  The reason why she is a daddy's girl is out of necessity, without him no one would pay any attention to her.

Her reaction to Delilah would probably have not been so violent if there was a more evenness in her life.  Oh well.

Whatever, sitting at the kitchen table, drinking a soda she just doesn't want to have to answer any questions about the recent appearance of bite marks on her skin.  God damn, you'd think the girls on the swim team had never seen a fucking hicky before.
sweetsalome: (pink top traveling)
Life is busy and full, there is always something to do, some place to go.

School, home, practice, homework, some lesson, some other extra circular activity on the day planner.  It has been like this ever since she could remember.  There isn't ever a whole lot of down time.  At some point she decided that she was a shark, any stopping would mean she would completely die.

Or something equally dramatic.

Shutting the front door with her hip, she drops her back pack near the front door and continues further into the house, tossing her gym bag into the laundry room without much of a thought before stepping into the kitchen to find food.  Yes, food, there must be something because she is starving.

Headphones in, ipod on, inner debating warring on if she should even bother starting her homework now or waiting for study hall.


sweetsalome: (Default)

February 2013

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