Eight : Handprints On The Pavement
•in which Demi and Wilmer have a kid together who faces the struggles of split parents who find it hard to settle their difference
Demi smiled softly at the white stick before her, the smart screen of the thick plastic reflecting back into her vision with words she'd always wanted to hear-Yes; Positive; Pregnant. After years of consultations, after years of trying, and after years of being disappointed; they'd done in. Sometimes in May, they'd be having a baby. They'd be having you.
Your mother was a world renown vocalist perusing projects to better the words understanding of not only mental heath, but poverty. She would take you to Africa with her when you got older, cradling you on her hip as your chestnut wasps of hair blew into her face in the dry heat of Kenya. She'd instill within you at the early age of three, that although Mommy and Daddy could buy you anything you could ever ask for, so many other kids didn't have that luxury.
Your father, he was a hard working business man who put on masks for fun. He'd take you onto set with him, your small chubby hands grasping at the directors microphone as you called out for your Daddy, small squeals of enjoyment slipping past your lips as every actor on set turned to give your their full attention with wide grins eating their face at your innocence. After all, didn't everyone in Hollywood have some sort of trauma occur in their lifetime that led them to peruse somebody else's life?
Your parents had always been thick as thieves. And as a child, you'd spend most Saturday nights curled between the both of them in their large bed that had just enough room for you. Your mother would wrap her arms around you, and the both of you would face your father teasingly sticking your tongue out. She's drive you to tears as she tickled you and your father laid their, watching you squeal and beg for help. He'd pull you away after he thought you suffered enough, cradling you, his amando, to his chest pouting with you as he droned on and on about how Mommy was so mean.
Things had definitely changed since those joyous nights. Your mother barely tickled you anymore and when she did it was in negotiation for you to comply with her demands. She'd dress you in leggings and a sweatshirt nearly everyday, leaving the bright side of your closet untouched. Her eyes didn't shine like they used to, and the only time she laughed was when you caused it. Come to think of it as well, Daddy hadn't been home in weeks and you'd seen Mommy cry more times in those few weeks then you could ever remember.
"We goin' back to Africa, Mommy?" You giggled as you pulled yourself into your mothers lap as she sat around piles of clothes and cardboard boxes.
"Not quite, lovey. We aren't going on vacation, we're going to a new home." Mommy's voice was tired in your ears as she pulled you down and cradled you against her chest. You fisted her shirt, curling down into a ball. Looking around, it became clear that everything was packed away that belonged to her. The plaque of your father's NCIS character laid untouched on the dressers, and a multitude of his watches and colognes could be seen through the open en-suite door.
"Daddy not comin' with us?" You asked gently grabbing onto your Mother's hair, the locks were soft in your hand as you glanced up at your mother with wide eyes.
"No baby, Daddy isn't come with us. Daddy has to work." Her voice got mean at the end, your eyebrows furrowing together as you struggled in her hold suddenly displeased with her actions of holding you down.
"We go to work with Daddy!" You beamed brightly standing on her bed and holding your hands on your hips with sass-filled determination. Demi saw nothing but herself your eyes, and she hated that this is what your childhood was coming to. You didn't have a mentally-ill addict father that you could blame for the distress, you had Wilmer Valderrama who has chosen life on screen over life with you. Nothing about this was fair to you, but Demi couldn't sit around anymore in a house that reminded her of him when he didn't even want to he with the both of you. That wasn't fair to her.
"Baby girl, Daddy doesn't want us to come to work with him anymore. Come on, let's go run you a bath and then we can cuddle." Demi's eyes filled with tears as she picked up your struggling body. She knew how you'd react, she'd been through the same thing but now she understood just how hard it was for her own mother to move two growing children away from everything they'd ever known. This situation however wasn't nearly comparable to her own. Her mother was doing it for their own good, and Demi couldn't help but feel like she was being selfish.
Your persistence with struggling wore Demi down more then she could handle for the night, letting your small body wriggle down from her arms.
"Mommy sad?" You asked as you watched tears fall from Demi's eyes. You hadn't meant to upset her but the thought of not having cuddle time, or dance party's hurt your small heart. You couldn't understand the complexity of the situation, but you did understand that it wasn't good for you. Any situation where Mommy and Daddy weren't together seemed horrible.
"Mommy's just tired, bug. Let's get you into some jammies, we can run a bath another night." Demi whispered softly leading the way into your newly converted nursery. Her heart hammered against her chest as she thought of having to recreate a room for you with none of the same monumental memories. This had been your first room, and you'd accomplished a lot within these four walls.
Memories of her and Wilmer brought Demi to shambles as she picked you up from where you stood wearily behind her. Your bottom lip pouted downwards as you grabbed her cheeks between your hands and pressed your face against her own. You still hadn't quite gotten the concept of a kiss, but your attempt at cheering her up did exactly that.
Going through the motions of getting you ready for bed, Demi counted on in her head. This was the seventeenth day in a row Wilmer had yet to return home to do the same, he was off at some party celebrating a character that had no child whilst his own sat at home wondering where he was.
"Mommy, hold me!" You whined as Demi finished dressing you and stepped away. Your arms were outstretched to her, your lip trembling in rejection as both of your parents seemed to be going through their own fits that left you defenseless.
"Let's go cuddle, yeah?" Demi asked gently swooping you up into her arms and stepping over to the rocking chair in the corner they had yet to move out. "You're getting to be to big for Mama to rock you, huh?" Demi teased, coming back to herself for a moment as she held your body against her lap pressing a kiss to your temple every few moments.
You grunted, fisting her shirt and directing your eyes outside of the window the chair was pointed towards. The blue glow of the infinity pool beneath you allowed for a reflection to cast upon the face of handprints.
"You see the handprints, baby?" Demi asked gently as she adjusted you over her lap. Your small hands that held her hair tightly still clamped around the silky strands securing your physical connection to her. "Mommy had those made when you were just a little peanut." Demi couldn't help but remember Wilmer not wanting to join in, standing off to the side with a camera documenting the moment a mother and daughter cemented their eternal unconditional love for one another.
"Mommy's gonna love you forever and ever, Y/N/N." Demi whispered softly as she held you tighter your body melting into hers as you fell to sleep in her arms, the place she knew you would be the safest.
I'll love you forever, I'll like you for always, as long as I'm living my baby you'll be.
