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'.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.
WEDNESDAY, APRIL 9, 1969
Alexandria woke up feeling quite ropey. She spent the morning migrating in and out of the bathroom, her stomach churning uncomfortably while also constricting in hunger. She needed to eat something, but she couldn't manage it. It only made the nausea worse.
George noticed that something was off practically as soon as they began getting ready for the day. He didn't say anything, though, and he tried not to worry. If something really was wrong with her, she would tell him. He was sure of it.
Alexandria sat at her vanity, braiding strands of her hair together and tying them at the back of her head, leaving the majority of it down while keeping the front out of her eyes. Keeping her hands busy also kept her mind off of her general malaise while she waited for her pain and nausea medicine to kick in. Behind her, George worked on buttoning his shirt. All the while, neither of them spoke.
Alexandria secured her hair on the back of her head and spritzed a bit of perfume on her neck before standing. She rubbed a hand along her belly, glancing at it briefly in the mirror. George had told her what that awful reporter had said, believing that it would be better if she heard it from him in case it went public. It hadn't, and now George wished that he had never said anything at all because it was clearly bothering Alexandria.
"Is it really that noticeable?" Alexandria asked, breaking the silence in the room.
"What?" George asked, turning around. He saw where Alexandria's eyes had landed immediately, and he sighed. "Alex, you can't still be on this."
Alexandria lifted her black cotton shirt and looked at her stomach. Once again, she rubbed the little bulge. "There's no way that baby is big enough to cause this. I'm just bloody fat, aren't I?" she said rather remorsefully. She put a hand to her forehead in dismay, dropping her shirt back down again.
George reached her in just a few strides, placing his hands on her arms. "Alex, quit that. You're growing a baby, for Christ's sake, cut yourself some slack."
Alexandria turned away from him and the mirror, not wanting to look at either. Instead, she stared at the bed, the gold and silver records hanging above it, and the glowing lamp on her nightstand. George waited for her to move, to say something. Finally, she turned to face him again. She slipped her arms around his back and squeezed him tight, placing her head against his chest. "My back hurts," she said.
Immediately, George pressed his hands against the small of her back, knowing precisely where it ailed her. It was always the same spot, a spot that he had memorized. "Do you still want to go today?" he asked her. "Or should we stay home?"
Alexandria shook her head, her eyes slipping closed. "I think a little walking will make it better," she said. "It usually does. Plus, I've taken some medicine. Soon, that'll kick in, and I'll be right as rain. You just watch, okay?" She pulled her head back to grin at him.
