on_thecouch || 37.5. Photograph
37.5. Photograph (from Week 29)
Co-written with paramedically
[Follows THIS]
Despite Marc’s insistence he should raise the subject with Ali, Andrew hadn’t found the right time. Or maybe he was just scared what she would tell him? He paced slowly back and forth in front of the large balcony windows of Ali’s apartment, the Upper East Side night time his back drop. Jamie was nursed securely in his arms and he rubbed her back softly, dipping his head to kiss her fine blonde hair. She was cosy and warm after her bath and it was nearly bedtime. He was just trying to settle her before they put her down, using the quiet while Ali showered to attempt to gather the mess of thoughts in his brain.
He could see some signs of post-natal depression without a doubt, but how did that bloody Marc know and it had somehow passed Andrew by? He could only see now because he was looking closely but Ali was mostly okay when he was around. He had tried to broach the subject with her at dinner, but a well-filled nappy on Jamie’s part had kind of ruined the mood and Andrew offered to change her instead. Ali hadn’t protested in the slightest and now that Andrew was looking at things through different eyes, he could see that Ali was most definitely trying to distance herself from her baby girl. Andrew couldn’t sit by and watch that happen. Just like Marc said, if there wasn’t some sort of intervention now, it could be disastrous. At the same time, however, Andrew wasn’t particularly surprised by the notion that Ali might need some psychological post-birth help. What she had gone through was horrific. He thought she was amazing for even coping as well as she had so far. But it wasn’t enough. Maybe he hadn’t done enough?
When Ali came back into the living room freshly showered in her pyjamas and wrapped up in a fluffy white bathrobe, he smiled at her. “Why don’t we put her to bed together tonight?” he suggested.
Ali hesitated. “But it’s your turn,” she automatically returned. “I was just going to make a cup of tea. Do you want one?” she asked, gesturing to the kitchen.
“We’ll get one together once Jamie’s down,” Andrew murmured, breaching the gap between them. He leaned in and gave her a brief kiss on the lips. “We need to put her to bed together, sweetie, and then we need to talk… about post-natal depression.”
There was a moment of shock on Ali’s part before she put her hand up and threaded her fingers through her damp hair with a small whimper. “Not you too…” she mumbled, tears already pooling in her eyes as that helpless despairing feeling started to make itself known across her skin again.
“Marcus came to see me,” Andrew continued, carefully shifting Jamie in his arms to cradle her against his chest with her little head tucked under his chin. “Which is something else we really need to talk about, Ali. I… I feel like you’re keeping things from me and that’s okay. I just need to know that if we’re not on the same page, maybe we need to rethink what we’ve got going on here.”
“No!” Ali cried tearfully, reaching for him. “I’m not keeping anything from you. At least, none of my own secrets. But I am keeping Marc’s and that’s so complicated, baby. I’m sorry. I didn’t… it’s just…” Tears dripped down her cheeks as she shook her head. She moved over to the mantle and picked up one of the photo frames, hugging it to her chest. When she came back to him, there was even more guilty and lost hesitation before she held the photo up for him to see. “Look very closely,” she whispered.
Andrew studied Ali’s teary face over the picture frame, but with a small sigh, turned his eyes to the photo housed there. They had spoken about these photos… or at least, they had touched on them. They were Ali’s best friends. Isabel, the one who had fled to England when everything came crashing down around them, Mark, Ali’s ex and Jamie’s father, and James, Ali’s oldest friend and the one who had been murdered, sending her whole world upside down in a painful mess of loss, loneliness and hurt. What was she trying to tell him showing him this photo again? If he had free hands, he would’ve scratched his head in confusion but instead he leaned in, looking closely like she had instructed him to.
“Please,” Ali begged him softly, desperately needing him to understand and see the answer without her telling him. She didn’t know if she had the energy to tell Marc’s whole story. It was hard enough for her to get up in the morning to breast feed her daughter.
Andrew glanced at her helplessly and adjusted the small delivery blanket around the baby girl. He went back to the photo and blinked before frowning to study it closely. Nothing was dawning on him on him at first until he saw it. The similarities. No one would see it unless they were looking closely or looking specifically for similarities, but the answer was there. This Marcus Fraser was Ali’s dead best friend, James. “Oh my god.”
agentfraser referenced with permission
Word Count | 878
Co-written with paramedically
[Follows THIS]
Despite Marc’s insistence he should raise the subject with Ali, Andrew hadn’t found the right time. Or maybe he was just scared what she would tell him? He paced slowly back and forth in front of the large balcony windows of Ali’s apartment, the Upper East Side night time his back drop. Jamie was nursed securely in his arms and he rubbed her back softly, dipping his head to kiss her fine blonde hair. She was cosy and warm after her bath and it was nearly bedtime. He was just trying to settle her before they put her down, using the quiet while Ali showered to attempt to gather the mess of thoughts in his brain.
He could see some signs of post-natal depression without a doubt, but how did that bloody Marc know and it had somehow passed Andrew by? He could only see now because he was looking closely but Ali was mostly okay when he was around. He had tried to broach the subject with her at dinner, but a well-filled nappy on Jamie’s part had kind of ruined the mood and Andrew offered to change her instead. Ali hadn’t protested in the slightest and now that Andrew was looking at things through different eyes, he could see that Ali was most definitely trying to distance herself from her baby girl. Andrew couldn’t sit by and watch that happen. Just like Marc said, if there wasn’t some sort of intervention now, it could be disastrous. At the same time, however, Andrew wasn’t particularly surprised by the notion that Ali might need some psychological post-birth help. What she had gone through was horrific. He thought she was amazing for even coping as well as she had so far. But it wasn’t enough. Maybe he hadn’t done enough?
When Ali came back into the living room freshly showered in her pyjamas and wrapped up in a fluffy white bathrobe, he smiled at her. “Why don’t we put her to bed together tonight?” he suggested.
Ali hesitated. “But it’s your turn,” she automatically returned. “I was just going to make a cup of tea. Do you want one?” she asked, gesturing to the kitchen.
“We’ll get one together once Jamie’s down,” Andrew murmured, breaching the gap between them. He leaned in and gave her a brief kiss on the lips. “We need to put her to bed together, sweetie, and then we need to talk… about post-natal depression.”
There was a moment of shock on Ali’s part before she put her hand up and threaded her fingers through her damp hair with a small whimper. “Not you too…” she mumbled, tears already pooling in her eyes as that helpless despairing feeling started to make itself known across her skin again.
“Marcus came to see me,” Andrew continued, carefully shifting Jamie in his arms to cradle her against his chest with her little head tucked under his chin. “Which is something else we really need to talk about, Ali. I… I feel like you’re keeping things from me and that’s okay. I just need to know that if we’re not on the same page, maybe we need to rethink what we’ve got going on here.”
“No!” Ali cried tearfully, reaching for him. “I’m not keeping anything from you. At least, none of my own secrets. But I am keeping Marc’s and that’s so complicated, baby. I’m sorry. I didn’t… it’s just…” Tears dripped down her cheeks as she shook her head. She moved over to the mantle and picked up one of the photo frames, hugging it to her chest. When she came back to him, there was even more guilty and lost hesitation before she held the photo up for him to see. “Look very closely,” she whispered.
Andrew studied Ali’s teary face over the picture frame, but with a small sigh, turned his eyes to the photo housed there. They had spoken about these photos… or at least, they had touched on them. They were Ali’s best friends. Isabel, the one who had fled to England when everything came crashing down around them, Mark, Ali’s ex and Jamie’s father, and James, Ali’s oldest friend and the one who had been murdered, sending her whole world upside down in a painful mess of loss, loneliness and hurt. What was she trying to tell him showing him this photo again? If he had free hands, he would’ve scratched his head in confusion but instead he leaned in, looking closely like she had instructed him to.
“Please,” Ali begged him softly, desperately needing him to understand and see the answer without her telling him. She didn’t know if she had the energy to tell Marc’s whole story. It was hard enough for her to get up in the morning to breast feed her daughter.
Andrew glanced at her helplessly and adjusted the small delivery blanket around the baby girl. He went back to the photo and blinked before frowning to study it closely. Nothing was dawning on him on him at first until he saw it. The similarities. No one would see it unless they were looking closely or looking specifically for similarities, but the answer was there. This Marcus Fraser was Ali’s dead best friend, James. “Oh my god.”
agentfraser referenced with permission
Word Count | 878