Despair In The Apartment Lounge

48| she's never been the kind to be hollowed by the stares

Song title from:
Secret Door

Alex's POV

Outside it's a bright and crisp evening, but inside within Miles' LA home the atmosphere was anything but.

A week has passed since the trip to the gynecologist, and ever since the word 'miscarriage' was dangled in front of Tal as even a remote possibility, she'd tried stomaching everything and anything stocked away in Miles and Sarahs fridge.

The first day she'd emptied a whole jar of peanut butter and a whole loaf of bread then 2 slices of cheesecake as dessert. And the next day, a whole jar of pickles (which made her breath very unpleasant to speak to), five bananas along with three kiwis, and then a large bowl of salad Sarah had made for dinner (supposedly for the 4 of us).

After the first few meals, Talaska chucked up whatever she'd eaten some hours ago which left her feeling guilty, so she'd forcibly feast on more food.

After a while, it got better with every meal and only resulted in random sporadic gags that seemed to come out of no where and triggered by nothing at all.

I didn't want to burden Miles and Sarah with another person to house and feed (not that Talaska is a total burden), so I'd usually leave after dinner and come back the next morning bringing breakfast for the four of us.

It was quite refreshing to be residing at my old LA apartment anyway, I hadn't been there in a while ever since leaving for Birkenhead.

And compared to Miles' guest room, it felt and smelt like home.

Matt came by as often as he could, but with everything going on at the moment with Bri, Amelia, and the divorce paperworks in the process, he was lucky to even squeeze in an hour or two to stop by.

It's my last day here in LA.

Since Miles won't be going back to Birkenhead (a choice he and Sarah mutually made), there was no point for me to move back there either. We'd only done so to write more TLSP tunes and although our 7 month excursion has been cut short, it's for a well enough reason. So I made a few calls and had all my belongings shipped from Birkenhead to France at Louise's address, saving myself a plane ride.

Here, I sit on the all too lavish crimson couch beside Talaska, watching in amazement as she devours a stack of leftover pancakes that I'd brought this morning. She has the plate positioned on top of her round belly as to not have to hold it herself, and she'd occasionally look over my way to give a dry smile.

Before I knew it, the three pancakes had suddenly vanished from my sight and were replaced by a bowl of caramel popcorn.

It's suitable to conjecture that the only reason she enjoys being pregnant; is because of it's handy advantage as a bed tray.

"Tal, darling, your hair's gotten into the bowl."

I point towards the direction. She looks down and sighs before pulling away at the strands of hair now covered in sticky caramel.

"I need a trim. I can't take it being this long anymore." Talaska says as she makes her way into the kitchen, I'm guessing to retrieve a pair of scissors.

"Don't do it yerself, Sarah and Miles'll be back from the market in a bit-"

"I can't wait that long, I want to eat my popcorn without having to eat my own hair as well."

"It'll be real choppy love, self haircuts always are-"

"I wasn't planning to do it meself."
This is the first time she's taunted my accent since my stay, and thats beyond peculiar for her.