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Scene Title Fruitcake
Synopsis Delilah's Aunt signs her and Walter up for an Infant Massage class and accidentally offends the instructor - Hortense. Sorta. Fruitcakes.
Date February 2, 2011

Community Center in NY somewhere.

Community classes are great ways to meet other people, meet other mothers and children, arrange playdates, compare parenting skills even is silently and assure yourself that by attending this class, you too are a good mother. For the last forty-five minutes Delilah and Walter have been in a brightly colored room, soft baby blankets and pillows everywhere while Hortense in her yoga pants and shirt moves around the class, showing and demonstrating infant massage.

A normally energetic voice, she's dialed it down, soft, confidant and lots of smiles, kneeling down to correct the pressure of some parents hands, how to move ones hands, and teach the parents how to massage their babies which in turn - she swears - will help them with colic, sleeping, eating, a variety of issues that sometimes plagues babies.

Walter earned a smile and a tap on the nose from Hortense, grinning at Delilah and telling her how adorable he was before having moved on. But the class is over, people are packing up and one parent has walked away with a business card and a promise to call and schedule a private session. The brunette start to gather up the pillows and blankets, set about to putting the room to rights again, looking up frequently to see if there's anyone with questions or concerns.

Little mister Trafford has enjoyed his afternoon of being- pardon- babied to death; unlike his mother, however, he is not aware that it is time to go home, and so his mood is still happily content even as she gathers him up again, bundle of clothes and all. He seems disconcerted a bit by his mittens again, as most of the time, but hasn't made a fuss about them yet. With Walter propped on her chest, Delilah has the inclination to at least help the cleanup by taking her own pillow and blanket to where Hortense has been gathering them.

"If someone would have told me a couple weeks ago that I'd be in a baby massage class, I would have probably laughed and asked what they were smoking. It sounds so silly at first." But upon her Aunt Marien's suggestion, Dee signed up for it. "But I think it'll be good for us. Thank you for hosting this."

"Oh hey! You didn't have to do that, but thanks. I don't like leaving the place messy." The blanket and pillow taken, she puts them with the stack of supplies, turning to Delilah and Walter, reaching over to tease the cotton clad fingers then his nose again. "all the benefits that it has for adults, children and infants get too. And babies, they need touch. Without it they just don't thrive. So many studies on it. It doesn't get as many people as I hope it would, but usually people leave believers and know how to do it for their children" Hortense offers up her hand to Delilah. "Hortense Tennenbaum. I'm sorry, I didn't remember your name?"

Dee knows her name from coming into the class, but she doesn't say anything about it in favor of just smiling and catching her hand for a moment. Walter seems fine with peering out at everything past Dee's sternum, trying to put his fingers in his mouth. Not working, obviously. "Delilah Trafford, and Walter." She looks down at him now, finding enough room to take just the one mitten and peel it back to dangle from his sleeve. Fingers, nommmm.

"I'm glad you had the class despite the numbers, I kind of look for anything that'll help me, at this stage. As you can see I'm not very old and embittered with knowledge about sprouts just yet."

Soft hands, but then, in her line of business, it's a necessity and mandatory. "Age has nothing to do with it, just so long as you love your child and give them the best that you can." Not that she has seen many deadbeat parents in truth. "He's a happy baby, he doesn't seem to want for anything from what little time I've seen him. My mother would say you're doing a pretty good job Delilah. Besides, raising a kid she'd say is about 20 percent advice and 80 percent instinct."
"Thanks. My aunt seems to think that it is ten percent my instinct and ninety percent her advice." Delilah snickers to herself, grinning a bit more. "She wasn't too impressed with my getting knocked up, but go figure, when he's out here she wants everything to do with it, bless her soul." Not ragging on Marien, but it's true. "I'm just glad I'm not doing too bad going by the seat of my pants. Do you have any kids of your own?"

"Nope. A couple miscarriages, but that's about it. But I'm still young, plenty of time to have a kid. Find a man, have a kid. You know though, you don't even really need a man these days to have a kid. You can just walk into a building, look through a catalog, pick the blonde haired blue eye'd Swedish decathlete and bam, you can have a kid from him in a little jar" Okay, she's a bit forward.

"Sounds like your family is behind you though. Just do right by little Walter here and they'll see that you're not foolish. Things happen for a reason I guess." Hortense smiles, turning to start gathering her things. everyone but Delilah has filtered out. "His dad have the red hair?"

There's a bit of an apologetic look when Hortense mentions losing a couple of babies. Delilah does, however, appreciate her frankness, giving her a smile at the image of looking through a catalog. "Nah. His dad's a dirty blonde Italian boater-slash-fruitcake-slash-rogue." That sounds like an interesting tale, really, to someone who doesn't know them. "Has his pop's eyes though, looks like he might be keeping those. Probably make his grandma happy with'em."
She's used to that look. She doesn't talk about the asshole she was with while those happened. "Italian boater slash fruitcake slash rogue. Sounds like he's quite possibly a keeper. How come he hasn't put a ring on it" She gestures to Delilah's bare finger, figuring that fruitcake just meant he was a little crazy in the head.

"Blue eyes and red hair, deadly combo, get your baseball bat there mom, he's gonna be breaking hearts" Hortense gathers up her business cards, passing one over to Delilah. "In case you know, you want a massage or you want to inquire about another class. I do these once a month here"

Delilah accepts the card immediately, taking a good look before she tucks it away to keep, a muttered thanks on her lips. "Well, no ring, cause he's a fruitcake. I knew he was mostly one. We'd been friends for a while, about this time last year I went with him to visit his family in Palermo…" And, well, the rest is history. Judging by the sly little expression on Dee's face. "Accidents happen, same as things that happen for a reason.

"But I'm not the type to force a marriage on anyone. He's stuck by me. His partner too." At least Dee can imagine that if Francois was here(little does she know), that he would be receptive to baby Walter. He seemed intent on it at the time. "And trust me, if he is anything like his dad, I'm well prepared for the heartbreaking."

Fruitcake meant he's gay.

Hortense looks a little shocked at the terminology when it finally sinks in what Delilah means. She looks a little at odds of how to respond, looking between Walter and Delilah then back to Walter. Was it an English thing? Was it okay over in England to call them fruitcakes? Did the woman just not know better?

"It sounds interesting" She finally does manage to say, stooping to gather her last bag and sling it over her shoulder. "I should get going, you have my card and I look forward to seeing you guys again if it's in the cards"

Delilah calls herself a fruitcake. At times. Maybe it's just a Dee thing, not so much anything else. Not knowing better is probably subjective in this case. Hortense may think it inappropriate, but Lilah has never thought it wrong from experiences. A gray area, at best. "Interesting is one word for it." She laughs a bit, pulling Walter's hand back into his mitten. "Teo seems to think it is too. Glad it brings people a bit of amusement. It was great to meet you, Miss Tennenbaum."

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