Audrey Hepburn's Pearls: Part I

Chapter 100.2: 1968, Georgina

Chapter 100.2: 1968, Georgina

"I can't walk on the sand."

"Hmm? Sweetie?"

"I can't...walk on the sand."

Rather than my voice rising so he could hear me better, it went quieter. Quieter, because of my shame. The memory of breakfast was fresh, and what he'd said about walking along the beach together was, too. It had hinged on a piece of information that hadn't made sense in my brain at first, but now...

"I can't hear you, sweetheart."

I breathed in a long breath, and opened my eyes. I saw him standing in the middle of the living room, his legs spread apart. I was familiar with this stance. He'd probably thought I was napping off that great breakfast we'd had, and he'd been doing stretches, pointing his fingers towards his toes one by one and two by two in counts. He liked doing that, improving himself.

A memory of him doing just the same in a hotel when I'd woken up, so long ago, last year, when we'd barely known each other. I'd woken up in the morning and he'd been doing these same stretches and staring out the picture window at the moving city below with such fascination. I'd watched him for a while, comfortable wrapped in the crinkly comforter alone. Just knowing he was there, looking silly and ridiculous because he thought I was asleep. To be honest, I'd gotten some pleasure from watching his muscles stretch and tighten again through his shirt and pants. But that was back then.

Seeing him now, facing me and looking concerned, there was just the overwhelming feeling of missing him, loneliness. Needing him on the couch with me even though I knew it was the most selfish thing. I wanted to roll over and face the back of the couch, but I couldn't do that by myself. This realization again, smacking me in the face all the same, made me close my eyes again and want to disappear.

I didn't feel like saying what I'd said again. So I shook my head the best I could against the pillow, and pressed into it to hide myself.

Warmth appeared on my hip from his large hand, and he began to stroke it slowly. It made me shiver, a natural reaction to feeling unloved. I hadn't expected it, though I knew better.

"What's wrong?" He was so close to me now. His other hand alighted on my arm, beginning to rub the length of it as if to try to warm me up in Winter. It was so comforting to me that I couldn't control myself. I pressed my face deeper into the pillow, so I couldn't see him anymore.

I was falling down a rabbit hole somehow, inside of myself. A deep rabbit hole, where he didn't exist and there was only this crushing sensation that was pressure on my heart. In the darkness of the pillow, that's all there was. His hands were still on me, but its as if they were floating in space.

"I didn't hear what you said, sweetie. I want to know. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to not hear. I thought you were sleeping."

Too gentle. Yet, there was something inside that prevented me from answering. Crippling me, more than I was already crippled.

"Do you want to nap some more? I could bring you to bed. You might be more comfortable there. What do you want for lunch? Paulie bought sandwich stuff, turkey and ham. You like ham. I could make you a ham sandwich with lettuce and tomatoes in a little bit. Does that sound good?"

"No." Speaking before I realized, muffled into the pillow.

"No? Is that what you said? Do you want to stay here, or do you not want ham?"

"No."

His hand gripped my shoulder and a ripple of fear went through my heart, just for a second. It made me tighten up all over. Made my eyes squeeze close tight.