Chapter 13 Lurielle #3
No, she would remind herself quickly. She loved him, loved this, but she missed adult conversations with someone other than Khash.
She missed talking about topics that weren’t baby-related.
She loved being his mother. He was her favorite thing in the whole world and her most favorite topic of conversation at the moment, but she knew that was because he was hers.
She wasn’t using her brain, not in the way she was used to, and she couldn’t shake the pervasive fear that if she didn’t get back to doing so in the foreseeable future, she would forget how.
The guilt over the swiftness of that ‘no’ was fast to follow, and she would spend the rest of the hour feeling like the worst mother in the world for even contemplating leaving him at daycare.
But then you won’t be happy. How can you be a good mother if you’re not happy? You’ll raise him in an unhappy home, because you let other people make you feel guilty about something that’s not any of their business. How is that the right thing to do?
There were no easy choices, she had come to understand.
None of those suppositions needed to exist when she was in the rocking chair, though.
When he finished eating, he went limp with satisfaction, milk-drunk and heavy against her.
Lurielle rocked on, relishing the solid weight of him in her arms, turning him carefully until his head was at her shoulder.
He made a small, indignant sound, vocalizing the betrayal before resettling immediately.
She patted his back gently, toes pushing off the floor in a gentle cadence, rewarded with the sound of his tiny belch — and the immediate smell of his spit up, a reminder that she had forgotten to pull the burp towel from the bassinet.
Oh well. It’s not like he hasn’t spit up on every single thing you’ve worn every single day for a month.
As she rocked, she could hear the lapping of one of the dogs from their fountain in the kitchen.
Ordo, she could tell from the sloppy wet splash of it.
Further beyond, an excited burst of barking, Junie letting herself out the dog door, ferociously announcing the presence of someone at the back of the house.
Junie was uncontrollable and would never change, but Kael had been listening to her bark since the day he came home, and she didn’t wake him now.
“Pssssst. Hey! I don’t want to wake the kid if he’s sleeping.”
Her mouth split into a wide grin and her face brightened, realizing the stage whisper was coming from the window. “He just went down. I’ll be right out!”
It had been a relief, having Rourke next door in those early days once she had moved to Cambric Creek.
The big minotaur was self-pitying and dramatic, too proud for his own good, generous and funny, and one of her best friends.
She loved him so much that, she had considered more than once, she married someone exactly like him: alike in nearly every way, not that they would ever admit that to themselves, let alone each other.
She was glad their friendship hadn’t changed along with everything else in their lives that had changed so much since they first became neighbors.
Gently laying the baby in the buggy she thought looked vaguely like a pet stroller, she pushed him through the house as he slept, through the kitchen, and carefully out the back door. Rourke was already standing on the flagstones of the terrace.
“Wow. You really just came outside looking like that, huh. I don’t know if I should be concerned or flattered.”
She remembered belatedly that she had literally just rolled out of bed, her hair was still likely a straw-like bird's nest, she was in her pajamas, tit barely tucked back in, her feet stuffed into slippers, with a giant puddle of spit up on her shoulder. Lurielle grinned. Finally, she thought, she could share the secret of her success with someone who wouldn’t judge.
“You know what? I did. Because I’m crushing this.
You know how I am crushing this? Because I don’t give a shit if everything I own has a little bit of puke on it.
I don’t care if the dishes are put away.
I haven’t run the vacuum in two months. Khash hired a cleaner to come for a few hours every Saturday, but that’s for his peace of mind, not mine.
Flattered. You should be flattered. Because I’m doing great. ”
Rourke was laughing before she even finished.
“How are you doing, really? Settling into a routine? Ready to leave him on Jack Hemming’s front steps?
I’ll bet you could; they’ll just think it’s another pup they had.
How’s he doing, I guess I should ask? You know, I still can’t believe you named your baby after the worst-tasting salad. ”
They had gone in circles for months over the name.
Lurielle wasn’t attached to any Elvish name, didn’t have any family she wanted the baby named after, and didn’t have a specific letter she was set on.
Elvish naming traditions, it turned out, weren’t that different from Orcish.
They didn’t use the same name from relative to relative.
Respect was signaled through the first letter or syllable, which was why everyone in his family had a name that began with Kra’.
Her own family had never followed suit, not having an elder anyone wanted to honor that much, evidently.
As the weeks had stretched on and her body had changed, stomach swelling, Khash was right there for every minute of it.
Swallowing his ego to learn how to make Tate’s breakfast. Preparing her lunch and healthy snacks every single morning once she was confined to her bed, ensuring that she had books, a charged laptop, and a television moved into the bedroom.
He rubbed her feet, massaged her shoulders, and would have carried her if she had let him.
He helped her dress, pulled up her underwear, strapped her into the giant support band she was meant to be wearing to help with the weight of her swollen body.
He had done everything right, from the beginning.
She had told him, before the wedding, that she wouldn’t be continuing the Kra’ name dynasty, but as her due date grew closer, Lurielle couldn’t come up with a good enough reason why they shouldn’t.
He’d loved his grandfather more than anyone in the world, and if honoring granddaddy with that Kra’ would make Khash happy, she didn’t see any reason why she couldn’t do so.
She’d found the other part of the name on a multi-species baby name website, decided she liked the crispness of it, and that, like his father, that second name was what he’d go by in his daily life. The vowels almost looked Elvish, she told herself, a nod to both of their cultures.
He’d shocked her with a burst of choked tears the night she’d told him she’d picked their son’s name, and that he was simply going to have to learn to be happy with Kra’Kael if he didn’t like it.
“Lurielle, I love you more than anything in this world. My ancestors are crowin’ that I found someone as perfect as you, darlin’.”
She glared at Rourke now, unable to completely swallow her grin, dragging her finger through the mess at her shoulder and flicking at him, gratified when he jumped back, hooves clicking on the concrete.
“He’s not named after the lettuce, you stupid cow,” she laughed. “And you know it! Wait, why are you crawling through my bushes? What’s up?”
Rourke shrugged. “I just wanted to make sure you don’t need rescuing.
I told Violet last night I felt like I needed to check on you, make sure you weren’t crying in the corner while Mr. Perfect works on his hair.
If you need to go to the store or just want to get out of the house, go to the coffee shop, whatever.
I’m here. I’m not offering to babysit. Like, ever.
But I’ll get you out of the house, if you need to get out.
I just wanted you to know. And now that you’re standing here covered in vomit, I feel like I should have done this two weeks ago. ”
Her eyes filled with tears. She had gotten lucky, so lucky that day she’d toured this house, a house that was too big for her, built for larger species, like the big minotaur next door.
“I don’t. I’m not leaving the house yet, because of germs. Plus he needs to eat like every thirty minutes, and I leak everywhere.
Even if that wasn’t an issue, I’m still bleeding like a stuck pig.
Also, just so you know, Mr. Perfect has been literally perfect, about everything.
Maybe in a few weeks? Then I will definitely take you up on getting out of here.
I don’t care if it’s only to the corner.
You’re like, the only one outside my house who remembers I’m still here, I think. I appreciate you so much.”
Rourke looked horrified. “Lurielle, I didn’t want to hear any of that. I don’t want to know that! That’s not for me to know! That’s not for anyone to know! Fucking disgusting! In case you forgot, I don’t even like kids!”
“I know! And that’s why I’m so grateful to have you as a friend!”
She reached out for a hug, stopping short when he yelped, jumping back again.
“Euch, what are you doing?! Don’t touch me! You’re covered in vomit, you psycho! You have it in your hair! If the kid is sleeping, why don’t you go take a shower because you smell like a dirty—”
“Crushing it. I’m fucking crushing it.” Lurielle flashed in the beaming smile as she turned back into the house, carefully pushing the buggy over the lip of the door. Kael slept on. “Motherhood is easy, I’m the greatest, and I love you. Rain checking the coffee!”
He was right, she allowed, once the door was closed behind her. Maybe she should go take a shower while she had the chance.
Lurielle picked up her phone as she crossed through the bedroom, pushing Kael into the bathroom with her. She wasn’t sure if she had just gotten lucky or if orc babies were made differently but so far, eating and sleeping were his favorite things to do. Crushing it.