Behind The Mask

Chapter 70

Anouk's POV

And the big day was getting closer...my mother's wedding. I insisted that she keep the date and after many debates she agreed. It was good to have the spotlight away from me, my illness and my pregnancy, at least for a few days.

Michael told me so many times that all his life he felt trapped in a fishbowl with everyone scrutinizing every aspect of his life. And now I experienced just a tiny part of his ordeal – and it was frustrating. I felt everyone's eyes on me. Each member of the staff at Neverland seemed to be on the lookout to report the slightest sign that I'm not OK. I don't know how far Michael debriefed them (geez, where did I come up with this word from?) on the extent of my condition during the hospital stay. But I feel that he somehow set up a surveillance system at home. And I am not ever alone, not even for a minute.

But now everyone is busy setting up the gazebo and the open rustic kitchen for mom's wedding. I lie back on a sofa and smack my lips with satisfaction. Finally alone for a moment! I take my laptop and start looking for something to wear. I am not going to be a dowdy pregnant woman. No, sir, I am a Boer and I am going to look my best for the occasion. These days, I am partial to the color turquoise. It goes well with my pallid skin, hair and eyes.

I've always been partial to quirky things. One of my fashion signatures is one shoulder dresses and blouses. I like asymmetric clothes, because they somehow look flawed, like me. On the outside I've always looked like a regular, healthy person. The flaw is inside me and it nearly killed me. So, by wearing clothes that are blatantly looking different I try to express who I am inside.

For mom's wedding I set my heart on a jumpsuit. It is a light turquoise and has bell bottom pants. It is one-shouldered, of course, and looks like something that you'd wear at the club in the '70s. Most importantly, it is elastic and it will give my bump a respite from zippers and buttons.

Baby Jackson is growing bigger by the day. We still don't know the sex, but I want to schedule an appointment for that as soon as feasible. I want this baby to be a boy. I am old fashioned maybe, but a son carries the name of a family. It would be such a victory for me – to give Michael a son from the first try, against all the odds. I mean, look at Henry the 8th! He went through six wives and only got one son to outlive him (but not by much).

"Here you were, baby! What are you doing? Not studying, I hope?"

I bookmark the web page with the jumpsuit I want and switch to a tab with advice for pregnant women.

"Nope, just coming to terms with the idea that I won't be able to see my toes soon."

"Your toes look perfect and I promise to look after them."

Michael sat beside me and scrolled up and down the web page.

"Who writes such nonsense?"

"Dunno....I guess journalists on a quiet day without political scandals or celebrities they can trash."

Michael rolled his eyes and snapped shut the laptop lid.

"I don't want you to read negative stuff like this. It's not good for you, baby."

"Then what can I do? I'm getting bored, Michael. I cannot study, I cannot work, I cannot go out for walks without supervision, I cannot help in the kitchen...not that I'm good at cooking...buy anyway, I HAVE to do something with myself."

"I promise I'll think of something for us to do in the coming month. We'll have a talk with your doctors and agree on some activities that are safe for you."