'Cause I Like Him Too Much

Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Still, my fingers were crossed even after I had finished writing my message and having it sent a week ago. I sent it to the address the girls gave me. My huge thanks to them I was able to tell George. I knew he would receive it, I knew he would know.  That was all I wished for.

“My darling, all this time I thought I was very ill, but I am not really. I have this being that is now growing inside of me. It is yours, George. I don’t know how to tell you this, but please. I cannot do this on my own. I need you, we both need you. Until now, it’s making me sick and I have no clue if it is a good sign or not. You’re the first one who should know this, my dear. I haven’t told anyone but you.

I’m scared of tomorrow, so please write to me back if you can. I don’t know what to do anymore.

All my love,

Hannah.”

  It wasn’t a long kind of message, even if I wanted to make it slow and longer, so I could tell him more, but I was running out of time. If he wouldn’t know right away, someone here, someone near, who sees me and my every move everyday, would. I couldn’t let that happen.

  Although I was having this encumbrance, I should act and live as if I got none. All the work around the house left me worn out, yet I wasn’t able to think of it as tiring and to think of complaining, why I never wanted to do such thing. I wanted to be fine, to look fine, and to act fine. Never again, should I be noticed looking like a sick little girl, it would only trigger my concerned aunt to get a doctor for me. I disliked doctors, especially now that if they got a chance, they would examine my eyes and track my heartbeat, and in no time they’d know the thing I carry. I got no choice but to lie low and be very careful.

  Nobody must know.

  The middle of the day had sprung on all the roofs of the town, and everybody was finished, or was already starting to have a hearty meal for themselves. In our case, all the works were done, as well as the last batch of dirty dishes were cleaned, and were now resting peacefully inside the cupboard. All of us deserved a siesta. As for me, since getting some hood sleep had not been easy for me nowadays, I stayed in the sun room working on something that I should have finished a long time ago.

  I remembered the first time I got my hands to try knitting, its fundamentals weren’t hard as I could recall, however I didn’t seem to have the pure skill of doing it. Now, I wanted to have it done, there had to something productive I could do to pass the time, while I wait for George’s reply. No sign of the old post man outside the door though it wasn’t Sunday and the week had just begun. I waited since yesterday, and the other day before. Are fan mails meant to be slow in progress? The boys might be receiving hundreds of them each day, no pun intended.

  Maybe mine was piled under a stockpile of letters from their other fans. Maybe it would take George days to read all of them, before he could read mine. “Oh dear.”, I hiccupped and paused. “But it’s not a fan mail like the rest! It’s a critical matter we’re talking about!”, I said to myself, clicking the two large needles together to make the soft fibers intertwined. I sighed. Must I imagine the worst thing that could possibly happen? You think the flash news I got for George would make him happier?

  Would he even care?

“Of course he would, Hannah.”, I giggled anxiously, feeling quite jumpy for I asked questions and answered them by myself. “George loves you.”