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.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.
THURSDAY, JANUARY 2, 1969
Alexandria stayed in bed whenever George went to the studio the next morning. The radio played softly in the corner of the room, telling her that he had been listening to it this morning as he got ready and also that he had forgotten to turn it off before he left. She was currently stuck in a cycle of the top one hundred pop singles from last year.
When she woke up, the announcer was announcing the top sixty-second song of 1968. She'd made it all the way to one hundred, and after a lengthy ad break, the show started back at number one. Now, it had made it back to number fifty-one, "Dance to the Music" by Sly and the Family Stone, a tune that was far too upbeat for Alexandria's depressed state right now.
The events of yesterday had finally begun to catch up with her. She and George had put a plug on their problems for a little while last night, but as soon as their rendezvous was over and George had dozed off, Alexandria had slid into a nightgown and curled back up in bed. Her legs were sore this morning, and so were the southern parts of her body. Not only that, her heart was also a bit sore.
She hadn't slept much last night. For a long time, she just laid awake to think. By the time she managed to fall asleep, George was getting up to get ready for work, so it had been a shaky start to her slumber, a slumber that ended up only lasting about four hours.
Now, it was almost one in the afternoon, and Alexandria hadn't left the bed since she'd put on clothes last night. Her stomach cramped in hunger, but her legs refused to move. She really needed to use the toilet, but even the thought of getting up to do that drained her of energy.
All in all, she just didn't know what to do with herself. She was so emotionally drained, so tired of life itself. A couple of times, the phone rang, and she ignored it. She wondered who it was. It could have been George, calling to check up on her like the gentleman he was, or maybe it was Kathleen, calling to have a chat with Alexandria because they hadn't spoken in nearly two weeks. She wouldn't have cared to speak to either of them really. She just wanted to be alone right now, to have time to think things through, to clear her head.
After hours of laying there, she finally willed herself to stand. Moving made her dizzy from hunger, and her limbs trembled. She caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror as she passed. Her face looked sunken and almost ghost-like, she had awful-looking bags under her eyes, and her hair was tangled. She looked like a complete train wreck...or like she had just dug her way out of a grave after a year or two of being down there.
She stopped in the bathroom first because it was the closest. She was still bleeding more than seemed normal to her, and she tried not to think about it as she cleaned herself up and changed the pad hooked on her sanitary belt. She tried not to look at the blood and she tried not to think about what might be hidden in there—any last indication that she had been pregnant, maybe. She couldn't think like that. Otherwise, she'd end up passed out on the bloody floor again, and this time, George wouldn't be there to catch her.
