Hello hello hello! Hope you're all hanging in there still, and staying safe and healthy. I think it's about time for Harper and Patrick to make up, don't you? I won't keep you waiting- enjoy/comment/vote xxx
-ab
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October 22, 2028
Patrick
I don't know what happened between Harper and Taylor, but when she came back, she seemed to soften up a little bit. She gives me a bit of a break from the grudge that she was holding for the last few hours, though she still doesn't snuggle up to me as we are sitting on the sofa after dinner.
That's okay, though. I understand her wanting to talk this out before going back to normal.
As soon as we get home, though, I tell her that we need to talk. Tonight.
"Yeah," she says. "I'm just going to put Millie to bed."
"Don't sing too long with her tonight," I say, fidgeting with the buttons on my flannel. "I'd like to have this conversation sooner, rather than later."
"Okay," Harper tells me, and as she walks away, she coos to our little girl. "It's a late night for you, isn't it, Mills? Are you super duper tired?"
I smile to myself. She's so good with our daughter; that's for sure.
When she appears again, twenty minutes later in the door frame of our bedroom, her entire personality has shifted, for what just might be the hundredth time tonight. She seems to be an anxious mess as she runs over to me. Sensing that she wants to be held in my arms, I sit down on the bed and pull her body close to mine.
"Harper, honey, what is it?"
"It's everything," she says, with tears brimming her eyes. "I don't know, I'm just all panicky today. I'm sorry. God, I'm such a mess."
"No you're not," I say. "Honey, I'm sorry for what I said earlier. I didn't mean for it all to come out so sarcastic and-"
"No, I'm like, the most sarcastic person on the planet," Harper tells me. "I shouldn't have been so sensitive to it."
"You were valid in being upset," I say to her, "but I think we need to have a talk about the root of the row that we had."
She self consciously folds her arms over her tummy, but I pick them up and move them away. "May I?" I ask, tugging at the hem of her tee shirt that she changed into upon coming home.
She bites her lip, then sighs. "I suppose so."
I lift her shirt over her head, leaving her in her bra, then place my hands on her bare stomach. "This tummy held that beautiful little baby in it for nine months, honey. Look at it now. Do you remember how big it used to be? You couldn't even bend over to tie your own shoes. Now, you can't even tell."
"Yeah, you can," she informs me. "Look at all of the stretch marks." She points to the little marks on her skin.
I take a deep breath and kiss them. "I think that they're beautiful. They're like battle scars. They show that you did the most amazing thing that your body can do- you created a human. That wasn't easy, and I know it. But you fought through that, and you did it anyway."
She gives me a little smile. "I just wish that the rest of the baby weight would go away."
"Why does that matter?" I ask her.
"I just want to look pretty."
There it is. It breaks my heart to hear her say those words, especially when I tell her all of the time that she's so beautiful.
"Harper... you know how I feel about you."
"Yeah, but that's just you. You're supposed to say those things. I want the rest of the world to think I'm pretty. I want to be the mum who shows up to pick up her little girl at primary school, and all of the other mums are jealous becuase she looks so good. I want to be the one who steals the show, both onstage and at the red carpet after."
"You are, honey. You're so, so beautiful, and I wish you could see that."
"When I look in the mirror, all that I see is my stupid stomach, and my stupid boobs, and I just want to look like I did before having Millie."
"She's the greatest thing in your life, though," I say. "Isn't she worth that teeny tiny sacrifice?"
Harper bites her lip, thinking. "I suppose so..."
"Hon, you're going to hate me for this," I say to her. "I want you to start talking to somebody. A professional. Just go to appointments for a month to see if it helps you at all. If it doesn't, then you don't have to go back. I think it will, though. It'll help you with this, and so many other things. I know that you think you're a bad mum for taking the Les Mis job. I know that you worry about wanting to stay in the industry, even while having children. I've known for ages that you track your weight just a little too closely. I think that you just worry a bit too much about everything, and I'd like to see you relax a little bit."
"Taylor says it's all of the changes that are freaking me out," she says. "She managed to put it all into words today better than I could ever do. She said that I adapted so quickly when I first brought Millie home that I didn't really take the time to realize that this is a forever change... so now that I'm realize it is, it's scaring me a little."
"I think that makes perfect sense," Patrick says. "I think you just need some more help sorting through your emotions. Will you please go?"
I see the fear in her eyes, but in spite of that, she gives me a little nod. "I'll try it."
"Thank you, honey," I say, giving her a massive cuddle. "We can schedule you an appointment tomorrow."
She nods.
"But more importantly," I say to her, "are we okay? For real?"
"We're okay," she nods. "I love you, and I know that what you do is to try to make my life better, not worse."
"For the record," I say to her, "be it organs or baby bump, I think it's beautiful. You look happy and healthy, and that's what is important."
"Thanks, P." She rests her head on my shoulder, and I kiss her temple.
"Now," I say, wrapping a blanket around her bare shoulders, "how about you get that shirt back on yourself? You look cold."
She nods, and wriggles out of my grasp to grab the shirt on the floor, then slips it back over her head. "That's better."