Sheila marched along behind Charlotte, balancing a coffee tray in her hand, Charlotte's costume on it's hanger, and a mesh bag containing her slippers, water bottles, a book, and her script on her shoulder. Charlotte was walking quickly, flats silent against the concrete of the trailer park. She was to shoot a scene in five minutes and, though they were making good time, Charlotte always liked to be early. Sheila was getting more experience on set and the director had given her multiple extra parts, including the promise of a one-line scene in the future. Sheila had, also, named herself Charlotte's assistant because of the pregnancy. So, you could often find her on the sidelines, ensuring her cousin- her idol- was hydrated, comfortable, rested.
Charlotte's stomach was filling out as the weeks flew past. She had gained around 4 pounds and, in the next couple of days, they'd be visiting a gynecologist here in Vancouver to find out the gender of the baby. Things didn't get easier- she still got sick, foods were becoming hit-or-miss, and she had cramps in her chest and hips again. However, she found ways to be grateful for the baby, talking to the bump late at night with Matthew peppering kisses along the stretch marks that were carving.
Matthew, ever the adventurer, was on set most of the days of the week, and others, he would spend scoping out parks, cafes, scenery. He saved most of the adventuring for the weekends, when Charlotte was able to come with him. They met a lot of fans along the way, but they were respectful- mostly. Matthew was always drawing, writing, no matter where he was. He would sit outside, before it got too cold, for now he sits in Charlotte's trailer, hunched over his journal. Charlotte kept pestering him to share the doodles, but he refused. She liked the surprise, anyways.
Thanksgiving was just around the corner and, because they had a five-day weekend for it, Matthew and Charlotte decided to split their time between their two families. Sheila was going to fly home, stay through New Year's, and return for Aisha's wedding. Charlotte and Matthew would go with her, stay through Saturday, and fly out to see Matthew's family through Tuesday morning. Charlotte didn't have to shoot any scenes that day, so it gave them a few hours' leverage.
Charlotte wasn't used to having so many options for Thanksgiving. For the past three, she'd made plans with CeCe and Aisha for Thanksgiving Eve Friendsgiving, would spend the actual day bored, alone, and then would go Black Friday Shopping at 1 AM, until she dropped dead. However, this past year had been like an entire lifetime. She'd gained three families- her's, Matthew's, and their own. So, though it was overwhelming, she was beyond ecstatic.
"How was lunch, Char?" CeCe asked from her big, fancy chair, legs crossed and a magazine between her manicured fingers.
Charlotte hopped up into the chair, allowing the makeup ladies to give her a once-over with powder, gloss, bronzer. Sheila took her own seat, though it wasn't as privileged as their own. Charlotte sighed, "Better than yesterday. Didn't almost puke today."
Sheila shook her head, snorting, "No, you just gagged at everything until they offered you yet another bowl of ramen noodles and a peanut butter bagel."
"Why those? Why are your taste buds so obsessed with those?" CeCe, exasperatedly, flipped the page.
"Not tastebuds," Charlotte snickered, "the baby."
The makeup ladies dispersed and Sheila held out a water bottle for Charlotte. It was overwhelming to have someone at her beckon call, but Charlotte loved that Sheila was so willing to help. She accepted the offering with a smile, patting Sheila's shoulder as she sat down again.
"The baby is cracked out," CeCe muttered.
"Takes one to know one, bitch," Charlotte narrowed her eyes at CeCe. The latter girl shifted in her seat, magazine falling shut in her lap. She gulped.
"Moooooood swings," CeCe sung, slouching out of her chair once the director called them forward.
Charlotte felt her arms buzz with anger and she took a deep breath. Okay, so, yeah, mood swings were also plaguing the pregnancy. Charlotte calmed that anger, felt herself delve into character, and stepped in front of the cameras.
A few days later, Charlotte was heading back to her trailer after lunch. She didn't have any other scenes to film that day, so she was fixating on the thought of sinking onto the couch and taking a long nap. Sheila was off, talking the ear off of a production manager or something, and CeCe and Aisha had scenes.
Charlotte shut the door to her trailer quietly behind her, sighing in content as she kicked off her boots. Matthew looked up from the couch, journal in lap and glasses resting upon his nose. "How'd today go?" He asked as he closed the notebook and set it upon the table beside him.
Charlotte shuffled over to him and fell into his lap once his arms spread wide open. She nuzzled into his embrace, "Fine. M'tired."
"Go to sleep, Charlie," he ran his fingers through her hair soothingly, kissing her head.
"We should just go back to the apartment," she mumbled again.
"If you want. We can just stay here, though, if you cant make it," he offered.
Charlotte shrugged, "I got it."
Charlotte pulled herself up, hand slipping down until it found his. She tugged, got him to stand, and dropped his hand to gather her things. She shoved it all into a book bag, ensuring she had everything before reaching for his hand again. They braved the chilly winter outside, walking against the wind to the bus stop. It was a short ride to the apartment, one-minute up the elevator. Soon enough, Charlotte was stripped down to one of Matthew's t-shirts. He turned on the television in their room, though he kept it at a low volume as he lay on his back. Charlotte lay between his legs, a pillow against his chest. He soothed her to sleep by continuing to play with her hair and she muttered a goodnight before passing out.
Charlotte didn't have to be on set until 10 AM the next day, but she found herself awake at 3, having slept a solid 12 hours. Matthew was still sleeping, though she pushed at his arm until his eyes popped open.
"You still tired?" She asked, energy renewed from the beauty sleep.
He shook his head, rubbed at his eyes, "What time is it?"
"3." They moved around until Charlotte was sat beside him against the headrest, glasses on the bridge of her nose. She hugged her knees to her chest, cold, though enthralled by the question on her lips; "Wanna watch the sunrise?"
They showered together, though it wasn't anything sensual. He washed her hair gently, fingers digging into her scalp. She did the same for him, though they couldn't contain their giggles because he had to bend at the waist for her to reach. When they got out, got bundled up in their warmest clothing, and had two to-go mugs of hot chocolate, they set out for the park down the street. Prune wasn't meant to come with them on their adventure, but he started whining by the door, so Charlotte harnessed his large body and he pranced forward.
They travelled there often, for Prune to get outside, for picnics, for cozy, afternoon walks. However, that green grass that was still hanging on a few weeks ago was covered in a thin layer of fresh snow, frost dancing on the petals of dying flowers. Their boots crunched against the ground, forming a path across the unplowed sidewalks. The clocks hadn't been turned back yet, so, though it was only 4:30 now, the sun was beginning to rise in the east sky.
Matthew cleared off a bench for them and Prune sat patiently at their feet. His snow boots had snow clinging to them that he attempted to lick off. Charlotte giggled at her dog and gave him a pat on the head. Matthew laughed, too, before his eyes focused on the rising sun. Charlotte glanced at him, saw a streak of light paint across his eyes. It framed his brows, the skin beneath his eyes, as if he were wearing glasses. It made the darkened color in his eyes shine.
He looked back at her, feeling her stare, and quirked his head sideways. "Youre drooling." He tapped her chin, shutting her jaw though it was barely open.
Charlotte scoffed, pushing his hand away. He simply grabbed hers, twisting their fingers together and holding them in his lap. "You wish, lover boy."
"That's cute," he hummed back.
Charlotte raised her eyebrows, "What's cute?"
"Lover boy," he replied.
"Huh." She tilted her head, going over the nickname in her head.
He was so old-fashioned- his music taste, nicknames, clothing. It was like he'd lived fifty years, been through the war. Charlotte knew she could be like that sometimes, with her plants, her attitude, her bedtime. But, Matthew was the most shocking because, while his actions said old soul, he had the energy and words of a junior in high school.
The sun slotted itself up in the sky slowly, overtime. The morning grew warmer, thankfully, as sunlight spilled across the park. Prune was impatient now, wanting to either walk or go home. The ground was too-cold for him to lay on, which was why Charlotte didn't want to bring him, so he sat there staring at them.
At 6, they slowly walked home. Prune led the way, eager for the breakfast that was awaiting him. Meanwhile, Charlotte and Matthew strolled contently, chatting about the days and weeks ahead.
"Are you excited bout tomorrow?" Charlotte asked as they rounded the block.
Matthew nodded, "Extremely. I'm really hoping it's a boy."
"I know, me, too," Charlotte said. "I know it ultimately doesn't matter because gender is a social construct and they could be born differently than we label them, but. A boy would be fun."
"A girl would be, too," Matthew added on, assuring her point, "I'm just feeling drawn to a boy."
Charlotte snorted and hopped on the opportunity, "Gay."
Matthew elbowed her, having to withdraw some of his force when he remembered the lump on her stomach. "Did that hurt? I'm sorry-"
"You're fine, M," she waved him off, though she touched the spot he jabbed, "just, speed it up. I might pee myself."