C&C 2020: "Bad Ending"
the dream maker's gonna make you mad.
the spaceman says everybody look down.
it's all in your mind'>This is not now.
"I'm gonna hit the shower, babe."
He sidles up behind her; squeezes her bare hips and presses his face into her hair. Li doesn't wear clothes at home.
She places the plate she has been scrubbing in the drying rack and glances at him over her shoulder and Pete remembers a time when he didn't know there was such a thing as a drying rack.
"Oh. Okay."
She cocks her head to the side. On the bridge of her nose her glasses defy gravity.
"Do you feel alright, honey?"
"Sure," he lies.
He's got that headache again.
He doesn't worry much about it: he's had a couple of doctors check it out, and they've all agreed it's just a side effect of the medication. An Aspirin or two usually knock it back to wherever it came from. It only rears its ugly head when he's tired. Police work always takes a lot out of a person, but life on the force hasn't been any rougher than usual; it's just that Li's had a stomach bug for a little over a week. He's managed to dodge that bullet himself, but it does keep and wake him up a bit. His grumpy expression doesn't budge, but he'd hold her hair until they both turn blue. She had her own doctor's appointment yesterday, and no medications to blame anything on.
He slips into the bathroom and out of the civilian parts of his uniform. His track-pants are black now, but his t-shirt is still orange. He glances in the mirror. His headset swivels as he scrutinizes. The lines around his eyes seem to be getting deeper. He's lost five pounds, but you'd never know it. He clips a wire to each of his antenna, and connects the remaining ends to a small generator that lives on the counter next to their sink and would, in anyone else's home, be an electrocution hazard. He switches off the lights. He concentrates on draining his charge until he can't stop yawning.
His head aches. In the shower, he presses his forehead against the cool tiles, but it doesn't help much: the pain is in the back of his head, as it always is, and dull like he smacked it against something, although to his knowledge he hasn't.
He dries off quickly, wraps the towel around his middle, and pops two Aspirin while he recharges. This is the only time he allows himself to zap.
Li stands in the doorway, wringing her hands. The tips of her fingers are orange.
"What?" He asks. For a moment the ache threatens to rush back; take him over and pull him...under.
"Um," she stammers. "I...the doctor called."
She's a mess of multi-colored streaks. He doesn't even want to think of what his own face looks like.
"Pete, we're pregnant," she blurts.
After a moment, that works its way through his thick skull.
"Oh, babe. Oh, babe."
He's down on his knees, kissing her bare stomach.
"Babe. I thought you were just gettin' fat."
She laughs and scratches his scalp through his short, bristly hair. His head is light. He feels like a million volts.
This is not now. This never was.
the spaceman says everybody look down.
it's all in your mind'>This is not now.
"I'm gonna hit the shower, babe."
He sidles up behind her; squeezes her bare hips and presses his face into her hair. Li doesn't wear clothes at home.
She places the plate she has been scrubbing in the drying rack and glances at him over her shoulder and Pete remembers a time when he didn't know there was such a thing as a drying rack.
"Oh. Okay."
She cocks her head to the side. On the bridge of her nose her glasses defy gravity.
"Do you feel alright, honey?"
"Sure," he lies.
He's got that headache again.
He doesn't worry much about it: he's had a couple of doctors check it out, and they've all agreed it's just a side effect of the medication. An Aspirin or two usually knock it back to wherever it came from. It only rears its ugly head when he's tired. Police work always takes a lot out of a person, but life on the force hasn't been any rougher than usual; it's just that Li's had a stomach bug for a little over a week. He's managed to dodge that bullet himself, but it does keep and wake him up a bit. His grumpy expression doesn't budge, but he'd hold her hair until they both turn blue. She had her own doctor's appointment yesterday, and no medications to blame anything on.
He slips into the bathroom and out of the civilian parts of his uniform. His track-pants are black now, but his t-shirt is still orange. He glances in the mirror. His headset swivels as he scrutinizes. The lines around his eyes seem to be getting deeper. He's lost five pounds, but you'd never know it. He clips a wire to each of his antenna, and connects the remaining ends to a small generator that lives on the counter next to their sink and would, in anyone else's home, be an electrocution hazard. He switches off the lights. He concentrates on draining his charge until he can't stop yawning.
His head aches. In the shower, he presses his forehead against the cool tiles, but it doesn't help much: the pain is in the back of his head, as it always is, and dull like he smacked it against something, although to his knowledge he hasn't.
He dries off quickly, wraps the towel around his middle, and pops two Aspirin while he recharges. This is the only time he allows himself to zap.
Li stands in the doorway, wringing her hands. The tips of her fingers are orange.
"What?" He asks. For a moment the ache threatens to rush back; take him over and pull him...under.
"Um," she stammers. "I...the doctor called."
She's a mess of multi-colored streaks. He doesn't even want to think of what his own face looks like.
"Pete, we're pregnant," she blurts.
After a moment, that works its way through his thick skull.
"Oh, babe. Oh, babe."
He's down on his knees, kissing her bare stomach.
"Babe. I thought you were just gettin' fat."
She laughs and scratches his scalp through his short, bristly hair. His head is light. He feels like a million volts.
This is not now. This never was.