Audrey Hepburn's Pearls: Part I

Chapter 36.1: 1967, Georgina

Chapter 36.1: 1967, Georgina

"Georgina..."

There was a sweet voice in my dream. Too sad of a voice. Disturbing.

"Georgina...?"

It was a cough of a gasp, tiny. Distraught in the quiet.

A hot hand took mine. Climbed up my wrist, pressed.

"Pretty eyes...oh god...I don't- know..."

More gasping, little voice.

I felt...wet.

Very wet. Everywhere.

Then movement.

Hurt, like...razor burn. Hurt like...scraping. Then cold. Just cold. Disorienting, dizzy. Hot hands, on my wrists. Hurting me.

"Wake up...don't make me do this...wake up. Wake up!"

I don't want to wake up. 

"I told them not to do that! I told them not to stock the bar! Georgina...but I trusted you... Georgina...why...?"

Pitiful crying. But this voice. The anger wouldn't come. This voice.

Then pinching pain. Pinch. Pinch Pinch Pinch--

"Ow, ow, ow-"

"Georgina! Georgina...!" 

Warmth everywhere. As my eyes opened I took in a long breath and coughed, feeling bitterness in my throat. Coughing, and the bitterness came out, dribbling down my chin. I couldn't control it. But he kissed me anyway. Kissed me all over. His searching blue-green eyes looked desperate, heart-wrenching. He was hugging me. I was so wet everywhere. Why...

Then the smell.

"Fuck," I sighed, choking again on the bitter stuff. I felt so weak. My hands would not lift. They were splayed open, like my legs. My legs. My legs were wet, too. The combination of acids flew up my nose and I realized what had happened, surely.

"I pissed myself, didn't I. Fuck."

"Yeah...yeah, but its okay," Frankie whispered, still kissing me all over my face like a happy dog. "Its okay, because you're alive."

"Of course I'm alive. I couldn't kill myself if I tried."

His face changed at this, that pitiful sad face. Like I'd taken all of his happiness away. All of the joy he'd ever have. 

"Don't say that," he said, his face collapsing into his tears. Fresh ones replaced streams of wet salt on his face. Stains. "Please."

The bitterness made me cough again, and my body convulsed in them for the weakness was too great, the coughs too great. When my eyes opened again, it was to him wiping his face with the backs of his hands, little orange stuff. 

I had spat vomit all over his face. 

I was so horrified at myself that I couldn't figure out what to do next.

But he knew what to do.

Without saying a word, he began undoing the little gold buttons all in a row on the front of my navy blue dress, the same one I had been wearing when I went to the Chinese place with Paulie. It was all coming back to me now bit by bit, more shameful by the moment. 

My eyes followed his hands, and I saw more orange vomit, some dried some not, all over the front of my dress. That three hundred dollar dress. He'd bought me that dress. It was one of his favorites. Now it was ruined.