𝙲𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚃𝚠𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚢-𝙵𝚘𝚞𝚛 → 𝙿𝚛𝚎𝚝𝚝𝚢 𝙼𝚞𝚌𝚑 𝙿𝚕𝚊𝚗𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝙼𝚢 𝙵𝚞𝚗𝚎𝚛𝚊𝚕
⊹ 𝟻-𝟸𝟺-𝟷𝟿𝟼𝟾 ⊹
Anemia was practically the definition of hell. After my doctors had taken another look at my blood, they realized that I had been anemic for God only knows how long. Being pregnant had just worsened it because of all the extra blood that's needed to grow a baby.
I was barely seven weeks pregnant, and I was already done with it. I'd been pricked with more damn needles than I was comfortable with, and I'd become way too acquainted with the toilet bowl. Not to mention, I was still wallowing in the stress of having to tell everyone, and now I had newfound stress: the threat of low birth weight or premature birth linked to my anemia. My doctor had been quick to tell me that Julian baking in my belly for almost forty-one weeks was a bloody miracle given the deathly-low amount of iron in my body and the fact that I was showing the same symptoms of anemia back when I was pregnant with him.
I downed my iron supplement pill as fast as I could, hoping that it wouldn't upset my stomach, but also staying close to the toilet because there was a part of me that knew that it would. John stood at the sink next to me, adjusting his tie in the mirror and appearing to be impressively oblivious to me on the ground next to him.
"John, how are we going to keep this a secret anymore?" I asked him. "My bloody pants are already popping buttons, and we aren't even a quarter of the way done yet."
John had quickly adapted to the idea of having a second baby. He even seemed rather excited about it now, much to my surprise. I supposed he didn't know what was coming with a newborn—you know—since he hadn't been there when Julian was a damned newborn. And now that I'd spent most of my time hunched in front of the toilet, he had also become quite accustomed to me being ill. It didn't even bloody faze him anymore.
"Guess we are just going to have to tell them, huh?" he responded.
My stomach finally lurched after swimming uncomfortably for about twenty minutes—even before I'd taken my iron supplements—and I hurled. John's head turned in my direction, and he stared at me in sympathy. When I spat the last of the foul round of vomit out and leaned back, I scowled at him. "You're so bloody helpful," I said. "Knocking me up, and then just staring at me when I'm vomiting. It's a wonder this bloody baby hasn't come out of me damned mouth yet!"
"I don't think that's possible, Lissy," he said, and then he lowered himself on the ground next to me.
I shivered, feeling cold now, and I curled up against him, burying my head in his shoulder. "Think my pill might have just come up now," I said. "But, I can't take another. Don't think I could stomach it. Hell, I could barely stomach that one. Christ, John, this bloody anemia's never gonna go away, and I'm just gonna be cold, and faint, and miserable for the rest of my life! I'm gonna miscarry all my babies, and you're gonna leave me all alone because I can't give you a damned child again. Fuckin' hell, sometimes I bloody hate myself, John," I said.
"Sounds like something to bring up to your therapist, Liss," he said, reaching up to run his hands through my hair. "And I—as much as you seem to think I am—am not a therapist."
I nodded. "I'll think about that, thanks. How are we going to tell them?"
"Think we should drive on down to Liverpool and just tell 'em, Liss. What's the worst that can happen?"
"Jim might chop yer head off," I said. Paul's father, Jim, had become increasingly annoyed with John ever since I'd told them about the separation. He had been even more upset when I had told them that we were even considering rekindling our relationship. My mother had seemed pretty disapproving of the whole "indefinite separation" arrangement too. I could only imagine what their reactions were going to be when I told them that John and I were back together, on the same day that I told them about our newest Lennon-family addition, and I could only imagine that they wouldn't be entirely pleased.
"Not too worried about Jim because Mimi'll do it first."
"Dunno, John. Mimi might be pleased that we've made amends."
"Don't think she'll be pleased about you bein' up the duff, though."
"Love when you refer to my pregnancy so kindly, John, thank you," I said.
He chuckled. "Yer welcome," he said.
"Are you worried?" I asked suddenly. "About the possibility of miscarriage?" I paused. "Would ye blame me?"
"Christ, would I blame you? What kind of bloody question is that, Liss? Of course, I wouldn't blame you...and yeah, I'm a little worried. I'd be sad, but I wouldn't blame ye."
"I'm still worried," I admitted. "Every time I pull down my bloody pants, I'm worried there'll be blood or somethin'. Sometimes I dream of blood," I said. "Lots of it, all over the place. The bed, my pants, the floor. Everywhere."
"'M sorry, Lissy," he said. "Wish I could help you."
"Let's tell 'em, John," I said suddenly. "Can we tell 'em today?"
"Tell who?" John asked, his eyebrows raising up.
"Paul and the boys," I said. "When we go over there, can we tell them?"
"Do you want to?" he asked. "Liss, I've got to record some demos...can't have Paul pissed off at us when we're trying to record."
"No, I want to, John. Can we?" John looked reluctant still. Maybe he was just shocked. Shocked that I was so adamant that now was the time for the boys to find out. "We have to tell them anyways. Let's tell them today!"
I looked him in the eyes, and he stared back doubtfully. "Liss, think this through," he said.
"I have!" I responded. "Have come to the conclusion that I want them to know right now. I'll be at George's after work, and you better be ready to bloody tell them because I am going to." I moved away from him, crisscrossing my legs and crossing my arms around my chest.
"When do you have to work again?" he asked me.
"Go in at noon," I said. "I've got until four, and I've got to wrap up my article on the Rolling Stones."
John still didn't know that it was Keith Richards who I had slept with. I'd uttered it way back when I'd first admitted to shagging someone else, but he hadn't heard it. I hadn't ever told him after we had gotten back together, and he had never asked anyways, so I suppose it didn't matter.
After I'd shown back up to The Rolling Stones recording sessions for Beggar's Banquet—a few days after being released from the hospital—Keith had approached me once more, seeming quite keen on the idea of shagging me again, but I'd had to stop it. I pushed him away because I was with John again. He hadn't known that that was the reason, though. I'd just told him that our shagging was a mistake. His ego was too damaged to even try and approach me again. For quite a few sessions, he wouldn't talk to me, but after a while, he finally had to, and now we were honestly quite friendly—you know, in a more friendly way and not a romantic way.
"Did it turn out alright?" he asked me. "Think it'll get everyone hyped for the newest Stones album?"
I smiled. "I think it will," I responded with a smile.
"'Ve got a question for you, Lissy," John said. I leaned my head back against his shoulder, resting my eyes because a headache was blooming just behind them, and humming quizzically in response to his statement. "Will ye take pictures of us recording this new album?" he asked. "We want it to have poster inside with some pictures in it. Some of 'em, we want to be us in the studio. For others, we were wondering if we could go through some of your old albums and see if there's anything good in there."
I nodded, a smile tugging my lips upward. "Of course, I will, John." Then, I sighed. "Now, enough with the damned questions for a while," I said. "Know ye love to talk and all, but I really need you to just be quiet for now...think I'm gonna take a nap before work. Could you set the alarm clock for me? I still don't know how to."
John chuckled. "Yeah," he said. "I will."
⊹ ⊹ ⊹
I pressed a hand against my belly as I slid past someone in the hallway leading to my joint office, a motion that had become familiar to me recently. It wasn't as if there was any sort of bump there that was reminiscent of the baby inside of me—well, other than a little inflation from me being fucking bloated—but it made me feel like my baby was a little safer when I covered it up. The life inside of me still felt so fragile, and I didn't want anything to happen to the little bean inside of me, so I put my hands against my belly as if that was going to protect it from all harm.
That was a bit absurd, though. I could maybe protect it from external harm, but whatever that was inside my body was perhaps more concerning. Something internal was definitely more likely to harm my baby than something external. I'd swallowed another iron supplement before I'd fallen asleep for my nap, hoping to sleep away any sort of nausea that it may have caused me, and I was feeling quite alright now. I'd felt a little questionable just after I'd woken up, but I'd lathered some crackers in a bit of salted butter and eaten some of them, taken a nausea pill that my doctor had deemed safe for pregnancy, and drank a large glass of water, and now I was feeling fine. I felt as if nothing had even happened earlier today.
Julian was at Kinfauns with John, no doubt waiting for me to get off of work and join the two of them there. Jane, Pattie, and Maureen were also supposed to be there.
My shift had just wrapped up, and I had just turned in my Stones article to my boss. The whole piece was adorned by a few of my carefully picked photographs, and I was quite proud of it. I entered the office that I shared with a few other people and went over to my desk. I slipped my sweater around my shoulders and gathered my things, quietly stowing them away in my backpack so as not to disturb anyone. No one here at the office knew about my pregnancy yet. I'd been able to keep my stomach contents down when I was around them, much to my delight, and I was hoping to keep them out of the know as long as was humanly possible, though I was just waiting for my plans to fall through and my body deciding to go ballistic on me. In the evenings, my back ached, and no matter how much I twisted it around, it never got any better. I was beginning to wonder when those evenings would slowly creep up to earlier times of the day.
I was wearing a loose-fitting dress made from about the softest material I had ever felt. The garment fell just above my knees, and my feet were covered by a pair of brown sandals that clicked quietly against the tile floor as I walked.
Once a chorus of farewells was sent my way from coworkers, I left the room, going out to the lobby to find a phone. The receptionist was happy to assist me, and a moment later, the line hummed as I waited for someone at Kinfauns to pick up the phone.
"Hello?"
"George, is that you?" I asked with a smile.
"Alissa! When will ye be here?" George asked me. "We're gettin' hungry!"
"I'm just about to leave," I responded. "Was calling to ask what you all wanted."
"Well, where are you going?" he asked me.
"Well, I was sorta fancying a pizza myself," I said. "But, if there's something you want from around Junior's, I'll be happy to go and get it for you."
"Hmm, no, pizza sounds good—." He thought long and hard. "Oi, what do you idiots want on yer pizza?" he hollered.
"Pizza?" I heard Paul answer. "I want fish and chips!"
My eyes widened at Paul's muffled response. I couldn't even look at fish and chips when I was pregnant with Julian. I really hoped this baby was a little more tolerant of it. "Shut up, Paul!" John's muffled voice said next. "She's gettin' ruddy pizza, and that's what you'll fuckin' eat."
"Okay, you lot need to hurry up," I told them, fishing a small writing pad and a pen from my purse and readying myself to write down their requests. "Before I die in starvation."
"Let's get some pepperonis," George said.
"I want mushrooms!" Ringo said from somewhere next to George.
"Let's put some bacon on there too," Paul chimed in as I scribbled away.
"What about olives?" George asked.
"And ham," John said.
"Is that all?" I asked them. "How many of those should I get?"
"Hmm..two," he said.
"So, all that for you lot, and pepperoni for me and the kids, yeah?"
George chuckled. "Yeah, two of those too," he responded. "We'll all split the price when ye get here. Ta, Alissa."
"Well, get ready because I'll be there soon," I responded.
⊹ ⊹ ⊹
Bloody mushrooms. What a curse. There were pounds of other toppings on the boys' pizza, yet all I could smell were those damned mushrooms. I didn't even know mushrooms had a bloody smell!
I'd always loved Kinfauns. When George had purchased it back in 1964, the walls were white. As the times progressed, however, he painted the walls with all sorts of different psychedelic colors and patterns. Now, it almost looked like a funhouse you'd see at a circus...but in a good way. There were scores of plants all over the front of the yard, and in the containers in front of the windows. Kinfauns was like its own little paradise.
I climbed out of the driver's side of my car and opened the door to the seat behind me. There was a grocery bag in Julian's car seat because I had decided to stop and get myself some more butter and crackers after I'd enjoyed them so much this morning. I heard a door open before I could go and get the pizzas from the passenger side of the car, and I turned to see John coming toward me with a smile on his face.
"Lemme help you," he said, peeking through the windshield to see the stack of pizza boxes in the passenger seat. He went to retrieve them for me and I smiled.
"Thanks, John," I said.
He came over and peeked at the window before placing a hasty kiss on my lips. "How was work?" he asked me.
"Finished my article," I told him as we walked up to the front door. I turned the handle since John's hands were full, and as soon as the door opened, Julian was running in my direction.
"MUMMY!" he shouted in excitement, throwing his arms around my legs when he made it over to where I was standing. When everyone else in the house started to hear the commotion, they came to see what was the matter, and they all looked very excited when they saw that food had arrived. I bent down to pick Julian up, holding my grocery bag with my opposite hand.
"What's in the bag, Liss?" Paul asked me, coming over to take it from my hands like the bloody gentleman he was.
"A little something for me," I responded.
"Mummy, did you get me pepperoni?" Julian asked, pointing to the ungodly amount of pizza boxes in John's hands
"I did get you pepperoni," I replied with a grin. "Just like I know you like."
He squirmed around in my arms to get me to put him down. "How about you and Uncle Paul take this into the kitchen with everyone else?" I said. "Daddy and I need to have a chat with no little ears listening in on us." I grinned at him and he nodded.
"You can carry this bag," Paul said to Julian, handing over the shopping bag. "I will get the pizza."
Paul and Julian disappeared into the kitchen and I grabbed John by the wrist, pulling him outside the front door again. Once it was closed and I was sure that we were alone, I began to speak. "Are we gonna tell them today?" I asked. "Or, are you too much of a pussy?" I crossed my arms.
He scowled at me. "I am not a pussy," he said. "I'm just a little reluctant. Worried Paul might bite my head off...won't he be a bit pissed at you too, Liss? For bloody lyin'?"
"Christ, John, can't we just get it over with?" I asked. "Sooner or later, this baby's gonna make me bloody puke and I'm going to have to explain it. Might as well just explain it before it happens all together!"
He crossed his arms across his chest and we both stared at one another intensely. Finally, he sighed. "Bloody hell, Liss. Alright."
"Thank bloody Jesus," I said, pushing a hand through my hair and opening the front door again. I was overrun with a burst of confidence, and before it could run out, I went straight into the kitchen, took a deep breath as John came into the room behind me.
"I'm seven weeks pregnant with John's baby," I announced quite bluntly. No use beating around the bush any longer, right? "I know it doesn't make a whole lot of sense since we've only just told you lot that we're together again, but I bet you lot can use yer large brains to figure out what happened. Surprise." I reached forward and plucked a piece of pizza from the box in front of me, taking a bit of it to calm my buzzing nerves. Paul stared at me in disbelief, clearly struggling to figure out if he'd just heard me correctly, and when he decided he did, he opened his mouth.
"Mind if I have a word with you two?" he asked, and the rest of the heads in the room all stared at us in concern. I shrugged, grabbed another slice of pizza, and left the room again, bound for the front door.
⊹ ⊹ ⊹
"When the fuck did this happen?" Paul asked John and me, his eyebrows furrowing together in complete and utter fury.
"Somewhere around...April seventh, maybe?" I responded, looking over at John. "Sound about right, John?" John only shrugged, and he actually looked terrified of Paul. "Look, Paul, I know you're pissed with me right now, but it's already happened. I'm havin' a damned baby, and I can't change that, you can't change that...no one can change that, I hate to tell you. So, please, for the sake of my damned sanity, be at least a little supportive. Ye were happy about us gettin' back together...can't you be happy about this?" The desperation in my voice was painfully obvious and it probably sounded rather pathetic.
"How long did you hide it from me, then?" Paul asked, and he sounded more hurt than angry now.
I looked over at John, practically begging with my eyes for him to tell Paul. "Since she went to the hospital," John mumbled.
Paul's eyes went wide and a hand flew up to his hair, slicking it backward and leaving it looking bloody wild. "That's almost two months," he said. "You bloody bastards."
"Paul, I'm sorry!" I said. "We just needed time to figure everything out, and it's really fucking hard to do that when everyone has conflicting opinions. I worried that you'd be mad we were together and it would make it harder for us to get back to where we were, and I really wanted to get back to where we were because I love John, and I'm happy when I'm with him, and I haven't been ruddy happy in so long it feels like! It was daft to keep it from you, I know, but please, could ye just forgive me? Just this once?" Paul continued to look at me as if I was a bloody disappointment, and I felt tears gather in my eyes because I knew then and there that I had just royally fucked everything up. "Bloody fuck, not the damned tears!" I cried, covering my face with my hands.
It felt like my reaction may have been a tad dramatic. When I started to cry, it started a series of side effects, starting first with breathlessness, quickly followed by fatigue, then when I stumbled slightly, John caught my arm and knew exactly what was coming next.
And that's the story of how I ended up on the bathroom floor in George's house.