Drabble prompt: I don't wanna talk about it. (Different version)
"Elizabeth?"
Henry strode hurriedly toward their bedroom, worry racing through his mind. The shower had stopped running nearly 15 minutes prior, and Elizabeth wasn't answering him. He pushed open the door and stopped abruptly as he encountered his pregnant wife sitting on the edge of their bed, sobbing. A towel haphazardly draped around her body, and her blonde hair curled in damp tendrils around her face.
Henry crouched down in front of Elizabeth, hands on her bare knees. "Elizabeth, are you okay?" he asked, barely masking the anxiety in his voice. "Is the baby okay?"
She nodded, tears welling in her blue eyes. "I'm fine. She's fine," Elizabeth shakily reassured him, laying a hand on her rounded belly.
Relief flooded through him as Henry rocked back on his heels. "What is it, then?" He laid his hand over hers in encouragement.
"I don't wanna talk about it," Elizabeth muttered, sniffling loudly.
Henry paused a moment, contemplating his next question. Elizabeth was six months pregnant, and while the peak of her second trimester brought a welcome relief from her extended morning sickness, she'd also been swamped by raging hormones. Henry didn't mind some of the changes- they spent a great deal of their free time having sex somewhere in the house- but he was at a loss to navigate the drastic, sudden mood swings so uncharacteristic of Elizabeth's personality.
"Babe, I need you to talk about it," he prodded gently. "We have to leave in ten minutes."
Henry's revelation triggered a fresh onslaught of tears.
They'd planned to attend an afternoon matinee of the latest movie release, The Lion King, although Henry was a bit apprehensive about the potential effects of a Disney saga on his constantly emotional wife. Their date was a concession to the end of his most recent assignment with the NSA, and an attempt to provide some normalcy amidst the unchartered territory of their first pregnancy.
"I can't shave my legs," Elizabeth blurted out.
At Henry's bemused expression, she continued, tripping over her words, "I tried to shave my legs in the shower, and I can't bend over anymore."
Henry nearly laughed, before he caught himself. "Elizabeth, it's fine," he reassured her.
"No, it's not fine," she nearly shouted at him. "I wanted to look nice, not fat and dumpy, and I can't wear a dress now because I can't shave my legs."
"Babe." Henry took a deep breath, and dove in. "You're not fat and dumpy. You're pregnant. And beautiful. No one can see your legs, and I don't mind."
Elizabeth glared at Henry, and then scrubbed her hands over her face. She dropped her head back, staring at the ceiling, sighing deeply. "God, what's wrong with me?" she asked Henry, helplessly. "I never cry like this. I feel like an alien has inhabited my body."
"Sorry, baby girl," Elizabeth chuckled, as the baby kicked in response. "But seriously, Henry, its July. I can't wear pants in this heat, and I can't not shave my legs until the baby is born," she stated, firmly.
Henry shifted to sit next to his wife on the bed. "I'll shave your legs," he offered.
"What?" Elizabeth mirrored his earlier confusion.
"Well, why not? I shave my face every day. Surely I can handle your legs," he concluded with a shrug. "Besides, I'll enjoy your legs much more than my face." He wiggled his eyebrows, grinning cheekily at Elizabeth. "Think about how sexy that could be." Henry prodded, eager to make his wife happy again.
"You've got a point." Her smile slowly crept across her face as she rubbed her belly soothingly.
"Do you still want to go to the movie?" he asked, as Elizabeth visibly relaxed. "We can stay here, instead."
"No, we've had this planned for a week," she insisted. "I just need to figure out what to wear."
"What about the long dress you wore to the Fourth of July picnic? The red one with the straps." Henry suggested. He traced a line over her shoulder with his fingertips, raising goosebumps on her skin. "You could take one of my button down shirts in case you're cold."
"I'm never cold anymore," Elizabeth admitted, rolling her eyes. "In addition to turning me into a raving lunatic, your child is a furnace."
"We timed this pregnancy wrong, in that case," Henry concluded. "We could've saved money on the heating bill over the winter."
"You're telling me," Elizabeth agreed, then leaned over to kiss her husband. "Let me get dressed. I'll be quick. Or as quick as I can be," she laughed ruefully. She used his knee as leverage to push herself off the mattress.
Henry sighed as he watched Elizabeth walk to their closet and sort through her clothes. Crisis averted. He wandered back to the living room, gathering the papers he'd been reading, with the intent to sit on the couch to wait for his wife.
Elizabeth suddenly appeared at the doorway, sandals in hand. "Henry," she ventured tentatively, "I can't put on my shoes, either."