Unveiled - [H.S]

05

November 22, 2023
Eleven weeks pregnant

I wonder if anyone has ever told Harry that he's melodramatic.

Today is the day that I temporarily move in Harry's house. All day we've been driving the u-haul Rhory rented for us back and forth from his house with the load of boxes, and the entire time he refuses to let me help. The most I've done is open the trunk to the trailer and start up the engine. At first I was able to shake it off but now it's geninuely starting to aggravate me.

Now he won't even let me carry a table lamp into my new bedroom.

"Harry, are you serious right now? It's a lamp. It's no heavier than a book," I groan, holding the blue and white lamp tightly in my hands.

The more time I spend in Harry's presence, the more confident I've noticed myself grow. Don't get me wrong, being around him still makes me nervous and I find myself stumbling over my words more than I'd like, but in times like these when I'm greatly annoyed, the words slip out (along with the confidence) and shy and reserved me is left to pick up the pieces later.

"I already told you. You don't need to be lifting anything. I don't care if it has the weight of a crumb, sit down and let me help you. You are my guest, not the other way around." He responds sternly, prying the wooden stand from my hold.

I huff and Harry begins to walk away from me.

I stand outside in the California breeze, perched behind the u-haul that is now closer to being empty than full. While I watch Harry walk away, my teeth gnaw on my lip as my eyes slyly shift to the last item left: a medium sized bubble wrapped painting I got from Ikea. Biting back a smile, I grab the painting with both of my hands.

Pregnant or not, I won't let Harry undermine my independence. If I'm expected to carry and birth two babies in the world, I can carry a picture, let alone a lamp, into a house.

I walk away from the truck and into the house. The warmth of the house immediately hugs me. It's almost like what one would consider a welcoming.

Navigating through the house, I manage to make it to my new and improved bedroom that Harry has so graviously offered up.

When I reach the room, I see Harry standing in front of the guest bed, staring down at his phone frustatingly. His thumbs twiddle and glide quickly across the phone and I can't help but wander what he could be doing and what could be frustrating him.

The thought soon dissapates when I drop the picture on the mattress in front of him. "Boom."

Harry glances over at me. His eyes bounce from the picture and back up to me before he raises an eyebrow. "Boom?" He asks. His voice almost sounds disinterested, but the amused look on his face says otherwise.

"Yes. Boom." I repeat, smacking my hands hard against the glass pane of the picture.

Harry smiles, but it falters and his eyes widen when his gaze drops back to my hands. "Blood."