For May’s FourteenFiction
Adam chose the word ‘
baby’,
Amy chose ‘
headphones’ and
Christopher chose ‘
jeopardy’. Amy also helped me by suggesting the story that references a line from
Shady Lady, a Eurovision classic.
Speaking of Eurovision, it’s on this weekend and I’m so excited! Seriously one of my favourite things. Anyway, all the names are references this month:
Cynthia – form Call the Midwife, which we are loving right now, so sad it’s ending on Sunday!
Dima –
winner of Eurovision 2008 (although he is Russian, Romania is the country Christopher thinks will win this year, so there’s an extra super unnoticeable reference for you)
Mr Cumberbatch – the most obvious of the three, he is named after Benedict Cumberbatch, of course.
Enjoy!
Cynthia drained the teapot over her bowl of bread; she smiled, it reminded her of home. She eagerly embraced the inner calm she’d felt since she woke. She enjoyed it knowing it would eventually end when Dima emerged and started calling her ‘baby’ like he needed the word in every sentence to be able to speak English.
Mr Cumberbatch jumped onto his favourite spot on the counter. He only ever lay on that spot and for this Cynthia was grateful, it made her feel less like she’d lost even though she suspected it was something he chose to do. Every day for six months she’d sprayed and poured water on him but he, despite being a stereotypically water hating cat, never budged.
‘I swear,’ Cynthia said to him, ‘if he calls me baby one more time, I’ll-’
‘Good morning, baby,’ Dima said cheerfully in his thick Romanian accent, as he entered the kitchen.
‘He’s lucky I didn’t finish that sentence,’ she whispered to Mr Cumberbatch.
‘Hum?’ Dima questioned as he came to deliver her morning kiss.
‘Nothing,’ she flashed a smile. ‘How’d you sleep?’
‘Well, of course,’ he stroked her still bed-styled-hair; she winced as he caught a knot but she couldn’t help but soak up a non-baby-infected sentence.
She stifled a sigh, why must he give her a pet name? She was not adverse to terms of endearment, but she hated being called baby. It was putting her sanity, and their relationship, in serious jeopardy. She made up her mind; she’d have to do something about it. Maybe she’d just ask him not to; it was so simple she wondered why she hadn’t thought of it before. He’d understand, she was sure.
‘Dima,’ Cynthia turned but he had disappeared. She followed the tapping of an offbeat melody to Dima’s office. He was listening to music.
‘Dima,’ she said. He didn’t hear and continued tapping out a tune with his feet, headphones masking whatever he was listening to, probably interpretive jazz, Cynthia thought with a shudder. She focused on the remains of her inner calm and decided that if she got the first word in, she could be calm about this. He turned to her when she reached his side and opened his mouth before she could stop him.
‘Hang on just a moment, baby,’
Cynthia curled up her fist; she grabbed the side of his headphone and pulled it away. Dima looked up in surprise, instinctively pausing his video.
‘Baby, what’s wrong?’
‘Baby,’ Cynthia tried to keep her voice level. ‘Don’t call me baby.’
Dima blinked, frowned for a moment, and then smiled. ‘Alright, bab-Cynthia, what should I call you?’
Cynthia smiled. ‘Cynthia will do nicely, thank you.’
