Lame chapter title. Hopefully better content.
Muffled rustling and clattering from down the hall alerted Eliza that Henry was out and about in the kitchen. Eliza feebly kicked away the blankets and rubbed her eyes with the balls of her pale fists before looking around at the sleepy gray walls around her. After a long yawn, she decided that if she didn't get up now, she probably never would. Eliza was soon squishing the thick carpet underneath her pedicured toes as she padded down the corridor at a zombie pace. She was pretty sure that she looked like a zombie, too.
"Good morning," Henry greeted from behind the kitchen counter.
"Morn…" Eliza mumbled, unable to even get out the second syllable in her tiredness.
She blinked at the plate in Henry's hand, which had two whole wheat bagels that were frosted with white cream cheese. Although vaguely aware that it was probably not meant for her, Eliza took the plate from Henry and muttered a thank you before circling to the black couch in the living room. Eliza could sense Henry's affectionate smile from behind her, as well as the shake of his head as he turned to toast another bagel. The couch had lumps in all sorts of strange places, and it took her a while to settle into a comfortable spot. Now if only she would not be disturbed again for the rest of the day she would be happy. After she finished eating, Eliza dragged her thumb along the pink edge of her mouth to wipe off the remaining cream cheese (#LowFat). She was wearing a fluffy purple robe that Henry had bought her for her birthday, being too lazy that Saturday morning to change as soon as she got up. Normally she would have already glammed herself up with hairspray, body spray, and any other kind of spray that cosmetics could have provided to give her an Internet-ready appearance. Today, however, she had nowhere to be and figured she could use the day off. Her past self would have fainted at the thought, as Eliza had always lived off of the approval of others, but she had long since learned that that was not going to keep her going. Anyway, her adorkable workaholic husband had seen her in worse states.
Speaking of my adorkable workaholic, Eliza thought, glancing up from her phone to see Henry's classic frown face as he stared at the newspaper in his hand and munched on his own breakfast bagel. Like, who even read print anymore? Dear John Mayer, did he always have to be fifty years behind everyone else? Eliza was about to say this aloud when she noticed something. Henry was leaning so close to the newspaper that his nose practically bumped into the page, and his eyes were squinting to the point that they were mere slits. It reminded her of when she was little and was first starting to have trouble reading the whiteboard at the front of the classroom… Eliza gasped and launched herself from the couch to the chair across from Henry. She dropped her chin into her hand and gazed at Henry, who managed a friendly glance before resuming his activity. The newspaper crinkled, and Eliza began swinging her crossed leg while she continued to watch Henry.
Without looking up, Henry asked, "Is there something you need, sweetie?"
"Nope," Eliza replied. "Just wondering what you're reading."
"Um…" Henry sighed. "Something about taxes."
"Can you be a little more specific?"
"Why the sudden interest in taxes? I'm the one who fills out the forms."
"You're right. I'm only asking because I want to know if you can actually read that article."
Henry gave her a pointed look. "I'll have you know that my mother taught me to read when I was four years old, and I hope you had a similar education."
Eliza rolled her eyes and dropped her hand from her face. "I didn't mean to ask if you were literate - and yes, Henry, I know what that word means so don't give me that look. I'm asking if you can see the words in front of your face."
"What are you talking about? Of course I can."
"Then read me a sentence."
"What?"
"Come on, if you read me one sentence I promise I'll leave you alone."
Henry straightened his back and gave the newspaper a firm shake to remove the wrinkles. Eliza heard him take a breath, but she didn't hear anything come out for a good ten seconds before she decided that enough was enough.
"Henry, should I make an appointment with the eye doctor?" she inquired.
"No, I'm perfectly fine!" asserted Henry. "I don't need to see a doctor."
"Okay, do you like have this fear of doctors or something? Because that'd be kind of odd since you dated Julia and she was a doctor."
"I don't have a fear of doctors."
"Well, then what's the problem? If you keep going on like this, you won't even be able to see where my mouth is so you can kiss me. And I can't have that."
"You're always saying how you want me to neck you."
"Henry, be serious!"
Funny, it usually had to be Henry to tell her to be serious.
Henry massaged his face with his hand and sighed. "I don't need glasses."
"Yes, you do," stated Eliza.
"I can't need glasses, I can't!"
Henry banged the table with the flat of his palm, and Eliza jumped.
"I'm sorry, I just…" Henry's frown deepened and he buried his face in his hands.
Eliza's face contorted with compassion as she stood up and climbed into a grimacing Henry's lap. She clasped her hands behind his tan neck, and he brushed his hand back and forth along her thigh.
"What's this all about?" Eliza cooed.
"I don't want to talk about it," Henry muttered, looking down.
Eliza's finger forced his chin up and she glared at him.
"Talk," she ordered, losing all softness.
Henry blinked. "I already feel old as it is, I don't want glasses reminding me even more."
Eliza couldn't help it; she laughed. Just when Henry looked about ready to shove her off his lap, Eliza caressed his cheek and kissed his nose.
"I'm sorry," she apologized. "But glasses are not going to make you old. What difference would it make even if they did?"
"I've had to take so much crap because of the age difference between us," said Henry. "I don't want to be out at a restaurant with you, take out my glasses because I can't read the menu, and then have some random guy calling me Gramps."
"Only Freddy would do that, and that's more because he's jealous."
Henry dropped his head to lean it against the back of his chair. "Maybe."
"No 'maybe.' It doesn't even matter what other people say. You could be sixty for all I care."
Henry only winced more.
"Okay, wrong thing to say," admitted Eliza. "The point I'm trying to make is that I love you as you are. Hey, that's a lot of growth on my part don't you think?"
Henry smiled, but he still didn't look convinced enough. So, she rolled off of him and began to strut down the hallway, ignoring Henry's confused voice calling after her. When Eliza returned, she had a paper bag on her head and, as usual, Henry had no idea what was going to come next.
"Presenting…" began Eliza in a booming voice that imitated that of a circus announcer, "Eliza 'Butt' Dooley!"
Eliza tore off the paper bag and revealed herself wearing giant, thick glasses, which similar to the glasses that had earned her the unoriginal nickname of "Four-Eyes" in addition to "Most Butt." Eliza wasn't thinking about that though, because all she cared about as she wiggled her fingers and stuck out her tongue was making Henry happy - even at the cost of looking like an idiot. Henry made a noble effort at maintaining a neutral expression, but finally the mask cracked with a sudden laugh.
"Stop that," said Henry in between chuckles. "You don't look 'butt' in glasses. I think you're cute in them."
"Well who's to say you wouldn't, too?" asked Eliza. "You could be one of those professor types with the bow-ties and button-up shirts and square glasses… Oh, if I put mine on and pretended to be your favorite student - "
"Please, don't turn my getting glasses into one of your role-playing games."
Eliza gasped. "Aha! So you do agree to get glasses!"
Henry opened his mouth, but was unable to come up with a retort, so he just smiled.
"Yes, I do," he said.
"'Kay, then I'm making an appointment before you try to weasel out of it."
Eliza walked over to the phone (which was the color of the yolk of a sunny side up egg and required her to turn a ring instead of push buttons) and began calling the number of her eye doctor. Holding the handset up to her ear, Eliza turned to Henry with a slight frown and a stare that danced between the fragility of tissue paper and the hardness of a metamorphosed rock.
"If this mid-life crisis of yours continues, you'd better not run off with a sexy blond in a convertible. It's way too cliché."
Henry blinked, and then grinned. "No way. I'm into hot redheads."
A cheeky smile that mirrored Henry's came onto Eliza's face. "I knew there was a reason I picked you."
I've had this headcanon for a while that Henry would be in denial about eventually needing glasses. It kind of expanded into this, but since I didn't think it was long enough to be its own fic, I decided to add it to my wedding fic as a small collection of one-shots. I don't know what I'll write next, if I write anything. Break is over soon. #SaveSelfie
