Sooo... how was everyone's Christmas?
I forced Gabbi to tell me stories for an entire week. It was fun. For me. She thinks otherwise.
I also pestered Flick, Mel, Stephy, Cessy and Jess and who ever else happened to be online and was to far away to throw things at me...
I dedicate this to the chump... you know who you are. hee hee
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Addison sat cross legged in the middle of the bed. She had the day off. That meant that she wasn't showering until 3 o'clock that afternoon, and she wasn't getting dressed afterwards just putting on clean pajamas, and she was eating her meals in bed while watching infomercials. It also meant that she was going to sit in the middle of the bed and play with her baby until one of their stomachs started to growl. Just because she could.
She leaned down until she and James were nose to nose, "What do you want to do this afternoon baby-girl?" she asked.
James swatted at a piece of hair and tried to get a good grasp on it, gurgling her response that sounded some thing like 'ba pa da ba'.
Addison smiled, "You're a little young to be dying your hair," she ran her hand over the baby's head, "And you look so pretty blond."
James stretched to fit a handful of hair in her mouth, "ba ba ga".
"Oh no. You do not need the temperament that goes with red hair. You have enough of that already," she teased, rescuing her hair before it was covered in drool.
"Bab ma," James replied reaching her arms out. She was tired of sitting up and wanted to be cuddled for awhile.
Addison let the baby grab hold of her hands and try to pull herself up, sending her slowly head first towards Addison's chest. Addison laughed and scooped her up, laying down on her back and setting the baby on her stomach, "You're a strong girl."
James just sat there, no longer interested in their conversation and annoyed that her mother was still making her sit up. She reached out her arms and leaned forward until Addison feared she was going to topple right over.
"Oh, fine," Addison laid her down across her chest, the baby's head on her breast bone, "You win. You're like your daddy. You always have to have your own way."
James lifted her head at the word 'daddy', whether or not she recognized it Addison wasn't sure about, "Daba pa ba."
"I don't know when he's coming back sweetheart. Daddy isn't really talking to Mommy right now.
Jameson stared silently at her.
"It's not all my fault," she protested.
The phone rang.
Addison reached for it, "I'm not perfect," she informed her daughter, "Hello?"
There was silence on the other end of the line.
She sighed, "It's for you," she handed the phone to the baby.
Addison ran her hand through the baby's hair and tried not to listen to what Derek was saying to Jameson. She was getting a certain amount of enjoyment from the number of buttons that James was hitting. That had to be annoying to try to talk through.
She let her thoughts drift away as she listened to Derek try to coax a 'DaDa' from Jameson's random gurgling.
"Addison? Addison?"
She shook herself from her daze and pried the phone from Jameson's hands. She wasn't quite sure how long she had spaced out for, "What?" she snapped.
Derek was silent a beat, "I'll be back in 2 days."
Addison waited, "That's it?"
He didn't respond.
"You've been gone for 3 weeks and all I get is a 'I'll be back in 2 days'?"
"Do you need more time?"
"For what?" she demanded, sitting up and gathering James to her side.
"How am I suppose to know what you've been up to lately?" he shot back in anger.
"I can't..." she stopped her self short of seriously telling him off. She calmly walked out of her bedroom and towards the nursery. "I've just been spending time with the baby, our baby, while you've been gone. But you wouldn't know that. You're not talking to me."
"I'm talking to you right now Addison."
"Only to tell me about your travel arrangements."
"Would you rather I just showed up?"
"I have nothing to hide."
"That's new."
Addison deposited James in her playpen and took a few steps away. She was stunned. "Is this how it's going to be Derek?"
He didn't reply.
"Are you just going to insult me when ever you get the chance? Is there a set time that you are going to hate me for? Or are you just going with the flow?"
"I don't hate you."
"You don't like me," Addison answered, hurt evident in her voice, "You're hiding out on the other side of the country, you're barely talking to me..."
"It's not all about you," he muttered.
"What?" she breathed.
"This." he exploded, "It's not ALL about you. NO, I DON'T like you right now, and I AM hiding out on the other side of the country, and NO I don't want to talk to you right now. Can't you understand that Addison? You are NOT the victim here. YOU HURT ME. We were finally getting things right and you BLEW IT. IT'S NOT ALL ABOUT YOU. IT'S NOT ABOUT YOU AT ALL."
"So," she replied evenly, "What?"
"So, I'll be home in 2 days."
"Home?" she repeated icily, "So you're taking me back, again?."
"I'm not coming back for you, Addison!"
She closed her eyes.
"I'm sorry," he murmured, "I didn't mean it like that."
"No," she whispered, "I think you did." She crossed her arm protectively across herself. "One condition Derek," she said quietly, "There was only one condition to us being together. You don't get to stay just for her."
"Addison!" He protested.
She hung up.
XXXX
Addison rocked back and forth and back and forth. She hadn't rocked Jameson to sleep in a very long time.
To long.
But Jameson was being fussy lately and honestly Addison wasn't ready to let her go yet.
"Stop staring at me," she whispered. James looked just like her, there was no mistaking they were mother and daughter, but she had Derek's blue eyes.
James continued to watch her, blinking more and more as she drifted of to sleep. Addison continued to rock her long after she fell asleep, smiling when she started to dream.
Finally she stood and laid the sleeping baby gently in her crib.
If she wanted to get anything done tonight she was going to have to get started.
She glanced around the nursery. She picked up the framed picture of James and Derek and moved it closer to the crib, then gathered all the pictures of the three of them together and left the room. She moved efficiently through the house picking up pictures of Derek and piling them in the kitchen.
She turned on the classic rock station on her radio and carefully wrapped each framed photo in newspaper and placed them in a box. She rummaged around the kitchen for a moment until she found tape and a marker. She taped the box shut and wrote 'photographs' on the side.
She poured herself a glass of wine and carried it and the box out to the garage. Once there she spread a tarp out on the ground and placed the box of photographs in the middle.
She took a long sip of wine and carried a stack of empty boxes back into the house.
She spent the next 90 minutes filling the boxes with Derek's books, making sure not to make the boxes to heavy, then moving them out to the garage with the photographs. Then she moved onto knick knack's, things he's bought and and spread throughout her home, forcing her to walk room to room trying to remember if he had bought that or if she had, or if that painting had come from the brownstone or the Hampton house because that would decide who it belonged to.
She hated him for making her do this.
She sat at the kitchen counter for 10 minutes, finishing her bottle of wine before gathering the courage to go into the bedroom. She didn't let herself think about what she was doing. Purging Derek from her life. There should be a limit as to how many times that she had to do this in one life time.
She filled boxes with sweaters and t-shirts and shoes, garment boxes with button down shirts and pants and garment bags with his dress clothes. She filled his luggage with pajamas, socks, ties, toiletries and miscellaneous things from the bedroom and dragged everything out to the garage.
Which left the garage. It was now well past midnight and the only sign left of Derek in her house was his work bench.
She winkled her nose. Fishing tackle. Everything smelled like fish and was covered in fish blood and who knows what else. She was going to have to bleach the counter top. She leaned Derek's rod collection against the rest of his things and carefully picked up all the odds and ends off the table and opened his tackle box.
She froze.
Her hand shook as she reached in.
Damn it.
Damn it.
She threw the tackle box against the wall, hooks and bait showering over Derek's boxes. She felt as if she had been kicked in the stomach. It was worse then finding the panties.
Much worse.
A year. For a year he had hid this from her.
"You bastard," she whispered, "We're over."
XXXX
I don't want you back, I don't want you back here with me
I don't wanna get back, get back to what we used to be
I just wanna be free, free to be what I wanna be
I just wanna be me, I just wanna be me and only me
I don't wanna see your face again
And I don't need to hear your lies
I don't even wanna hear your name
XXXXXXXXXX
Well on that happy note...
Seriously, there is only one more chapter. And I know in the last fic I SAID that it was the last chapter but then I wrote 3 more and a sequel. But that is not the case this time. I really am only writing one more.
So... review.
'Cause otherwise I feel unloved and I am needy.
And you should see all the new voodoo dolls that I got for Christmas. I can't wait to try them out...
