Distance, Getting Close
"Galvaston..." She repeated, slowly, savoring the sound of the word in her mouth. It was as though she'd never heard of the town in her life. "You guys've shrunken down so much that you're actually playing Galvaston?
Mark snorted, "I'm on the B-tour. I asked for it. Lighter work."
With her needle-sharp eyes, she discerned his form and announced, "Your knees again?"
He shifted, uncomfortable under her correct observation. He continued to carry the girl as they walked through bunched-together groups of commuters in an attempt to find an empty pair of seats.
"IF she's too heavy for you," Tori added simply, "I can carry her. I've carried her all over the world on this tour."
Mark glanced down at the sleeping red head in his arms and couldn't put just the right set of words together to express his angst. "She's my kid, Tori."
She winced and frowned, staring straight ahead, "You're not supposed to just come out and say it, Mark."
"Christ!" He snapped under his breath, "We were careful!"
"Yes! Except.."
"...The treehouse...fuck!" He grunted under his breath.
"You're not pleased," she noted flatly,
"That you were all over Europe carrying my kid and you never told me? Livid. This little girl's mine, and you didn't even have the guts to tell me."
She blinked up at him, "You actually think I had a choice? I wasn't ready to see you yet; I've been trying to get over the fact of my past lives and write music. It's hard enough for me to walk down the street when the only way I can relate to a person is through music. So I put out a new album, toured it..." She smirked at his hair and plucked it; he tried to weave away from her fingers, "When did this happen?" She asked, her tone bemused.
"New character," He explained, "I'm supposed to be a cool customer."
"Like you are already?"
He sighed and looked into her eyes. She never changed the focus of her own gaze. "Damn it, Tori; you can't go off to..."
"...Dallas..."
"..And I can't go off to Galvaston. I might never see you again."
"But you will," She saw her manager rushing to her aid, "I'm staying near El Paso; near Juarez, actually," She chuckled, and the humor was lost on him. He'd walked right by her new album without looking at it, the very act of know that she was out there without him causing pain. "Here's the room they booked for me." She stood, expectantly, waiting for him to turn the baby over to her, "Give me our daughter and I'll let you know what it is."
Reluctantly, he handed the baby back to her, and she bent and carefully whispered the name of the hotel and room number into his ear. Then she grasped her luggage with a free hand and, effortlessly, walked right back out of his life.
Moments later he exited the trance she had plunged him into and sank his fingers through his hair. He moaned to himself when he remembered that he had no hair to fingercomb in frustration.
Tori. Back in his life. What the fuck he was going to do about it, he wasn't sure.