Clueless: a Riders on the Storm Outtake By SexyLexiCullen
TEASER*** All mistakes are mine since it's not edited/beta'd yet.
"Clueless" a Riders on the Storm outtake, Kylie POV - for Fandom for Friends
** to set this particular scene, Kylie's 9 day old son, Little Aro, Lala for short, has been crying for days on end. Peto is her 4y/o son**
“Please, please…” I paced the nursery, rocking my son - praying that Little Aro would stop crying, wondering what was wrong again, at my wits end, feeling as though I might explode. It's been hours.
“Momma?” Peto entered, a frown on his face.
I sniffled, taking another deep breath. “Yeah…?” I smiled.
“Whas wrong?” He touched Lala’s foot, gazing up to me. “Why you cry?”
“Um…I’m fine. I have a bellyache.”
“Oh, I hates bell-yaches.” He walked over to the crib to climb it.
“Hey—”
“The chooch.” He grabbed the pacifier. “Lala needs his choo-cho.”
“Um…” I couldn’t think anymore with my son crying. It killed me, broke my heart each time he wailed, and it frustrated me—I just couldn’t fucking think, my brain dead or whatever. “I’ll try.”
Peto handed it to me. “I’mma hungry.” He rubbed his tummy.
“Yeah…I’ll, uh…” I tried giving Lala his ciuccio, his pacifier. “Please, take it. Please.” I gently ran it along his bottom lip, hoping he’d latch on. “Come on, sweet boy.” My stomach knotted up. “Come on.” I touched his tongue with it, and he paused between cries with the pacifier still in his mouth. Another second later, he was sucking it, small whimpers still escaping him.
Afraid, not sure if he’d stay quiet if I put him down, I rocked him some more.
A few minutes later or whatever, he was actually dozing off.
But I was a little confused since he’d just eaten. Pacifiers soothe babies between feedings; however, maybe he was hungry?
But if he was hungry again, I’d definitely heat up another bottle. When I was nursing him in the hospital, he kept puking it back up. It didn’t sit right, and he did that for a couple of days, until my mother suggested we try regular formula.
The vomiting stopped when we gave him the Similac.
Deciding to place him down, I figured if he started crying once more—which was more than likely a given—I’d heat up another bottle.
Thankfully, Lala settled down.
I turned on his monitor before leaving the room.
In the hall, I took several deep breaths while I leaned back against the wall.
So used to the crying, my ears were ringing because of how quiet it suddenly was.
Then I fastened my bathrobe to go check on Peto. And my eyes widened when I saw the time—glancing at it when I passed the living room. It was almost four p.m., and I hadn’t given Peto his lunch. I’d forgotten to feed my fucking kid.
“Oh my God,” I cried, running to the kitchen.
But then I stopped.
My son sat on the floor, which was covered in Cheerios, as he ate the cereal. He’d broken the box.
And I knew I was horrible.
Who was I fooling?
I’m a sham, the worst mother in the world.
“I feeded myself,” he said with a mouthful. “Why you cry now, Momma?”
I tried not to sob as I eased myself onto the floor. “No reason. I’m sorry.”
“No be sad.” He went to hand me some Cheerios.
I couldn’t even remember the last time I’d eaten something. So, I tossed them into my mouth and smiled at my son. “Thank you.”
Peto scooted closer to lean his head on my bicep. “I yike’a cereal.”
“Me too,” I whispered, eating a few more off the floor.
And it killed me that Peto saw me cry, but I couldn’t stop. I cried quietly, avoiding his gaze whenever he’d talk to me, but we continued to eat the cereal. All of which was the most peaceful half-hour ever.
When he’d had enough, he went to watch cartoons, while I swept the kitchen floor—picking all the Cheerios up.
Meanwhile, a solid hour hadn’t even passed before Lala was crying again.
My stomach in knots again, I threw the contents of the dustpan into the trash.
