Hand In Mine

𝘍𝘪𝘧𝘵𝘦𝘦𝘯 - 𝘌𝘷𝘢𝘯𝘯𝘢

Looking out towards my mannequin that still has the beige dress that I made with the baby onesie tucked inside on show. I decide maybe I should sketch for a while. Maybe I can sum up some inspiration for my final design and get started on it.

So, moving off my bed, I walk towards my desk and sit down. Opening the drawer I pull out my pencils and pad and get to work. Letting my mind wander, I sketch out tops, skirts, and dresses, but nothing is sticking. Nothing looks right, and I can't quite figure out why.

I huff, stretching my hand and looking towards the pink clock in the desk's corner. 20 minutes until I have to endure small talk about painful beauty with mother. Papa isn't here at the moment as he is away on a business trip to New York. I wish he was though. Ever since she tried to set me up with an arranged marriage, things have been even more strained between us.

I want to talk to him. So I slowly sink to the floor and crawl towards my bed to grab my phone off the floor. Not bothering to stand up and get onto the bed, I sit with my back against it and stare at his contact on the screen.

He has sent me a message every day for the past week, and it has been the only reason that I look forward to waking up the next day. My hand automatically reaches for my stomach and I smile. Maybe I should tell him?

Taking the scan photo out of the back of my phone in case I unfold it. My little baby. I'm going to tell him. Without a second thought, I dial his number and wait for it to ring. Looking at the scan photo makes me excited for the next appointment. How much more will we be able to see?

I'm cut off from my thoughts by the sound of Papa's voicemail and feel my shoulders drop in disappointment. "This is Ronald Hill. Please leave your name, number and reason for calling and I will get back to you as soon as I can."

I smile at the sound of his voice. "Hi Papa, it's me. I wanted to talk. There is something important I have to tell you. I hope you won't be mad. Please don't be mad. Call me when you're free. I - um. I love you."

Pulling the phone away from my ear, I cut the message and continue to look at my scan photo. It's weird to think that this tiny little blob is inside of me right now and growing into a human. The female body is incredible.

Suddenly, the door swings open. "Teatime." Mother grins. I don't have enough time to put away the photo in my phone case again, so I stick to shoving it down my sleeve so she doesn't spot it.

"Okay." I smile.

Following her out of the bedroom, I watch the way her back straightens and her chin rises with each step. She really thinks that beauty has to be painful.

We sit down opposite each other at the head of the table and say nothing. We wait in silence until the kitchen door opens and the staff she hires filters through and places the food on the table.

I watch as she dismisses them one by one without saying a word of thanks in their direction. It makes me sad watching how they try to impress her but get no recognition. I guess that is kind of what I do.

We eat in tense fog, thickening by the minute, and I can tell she has something to say. Cutlery scrapping and sipping of wine are heard throughout the empty room. It shouldn't be like this with family, should it?

"Evanna." She sits back in her chair and places her clasped hands in front of her. "I want to discuss something with you. You have been different. Defiant recently. I noticed you have put on weight. You don't need to be weighed. I can see it."