Dear Valentina [The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel]

☆ Chapter Nine: Not Easily Conquered

CHAPTER NINE.      NOT EASILY CONQUERED

TRIGGER WARNINGS.     DESCRIPTIONS OF VOMITTING

☆

     Valerie woke up knowing she would be sick.

     She waited an hour to leave the bed, suspended in a state of disbelief. She woke up to a warm occupant extracting himself from her, the mattress creaking and dipping as he practically climbed over her small frame. At first, her mind was transported to months ago and her heart sang: Mark, Mark, Mark. But he smelt different, and the gruff morning groans sounded different, and that was when the events of last night sunk firmly into her waking brain. There was the rustle of trousers being pulled up, belts crinkling through loops, shirts buttoned, but the entire time Valerie kept her eyes closed and pretended to be asleep. He planted a firm kiss on the crown of her head, before leaving the room, the door softly clicking behind him. 

      The hour passed, where Valerie did nothing but try to will herself back to sleep and forget what happened last night, what she had done. Eventually, as she replayed the night again and again in her mind, the nausea set and she bolted to the bathroom. Against the cold porcelain, she dropped to her knees and flipped the toilet seat up. She prepared herself — straightened her spine, held her messy hair away from her face, breathed in-and-out — but nothing came up, no matter how hard to she tried. 

     After a couple of minutes, she gave up and crawled across the floor, sliding her back against the hard exterior of the bathtub. Her entire body quivered uncontrollably. Erratic coughs rattled her chest whenever she inhaled too deeply, an effect most likely of her dry heaving. She felt like a newborn Bambi trying to stand on shaky and nimble legs; she simply couldn't get up. 

     Footsteps clamored closer to the bathroom and hesitantly, a knock came from outside. "Valerie, you alright?"

     The door squeaked open and David's head peered around the edge, worry etched into his brown face. "What's going on, Valerie?"

     He took in her appearance: legs pulled to her chest, hands anxiously sliding up and down her bare thighs, a cold sweat building across her hairline. Cautiously, he kneeled down and clasped one of her knees, feeling the shakiness of her clammy skin. Valerie swallowed harshly a couple of times, attempting to fight down the lump stuck in her throat, until finally she got out tearfully, "I — I just don't feel well."