Last night I dreamt of Isabelle.<\/p>\n
Creamy caramel brown, locks of loose coils framed her face. She was Tuesday\u2019s child: full of grace. She was lithe and long-limbed. Fingers were thin and lashes full. Her tiny lips were puckered and sometimes turned up with faint traces of a smile. I watched her chest move as she rested peacefully in my arms. This child was my child. And my child was perfection.<\/p>\n
We were at a party of some kind, apparently for a family member: mom over to the side, sister not too far away. My grandmother\u2019s voice was clear, even though she was not within sight. We were swatting flies and complaining about the heat. It must have been summer. I looked down at the weeks-old human I made with a man whose face I could not see, sharing a history I was yet to know.<\/p>\n
I woke up with a smile that comes only with the rusty, metal smell wafting up from down south. Sitting up against the urge of my pounding head that was still reeling from tequila shots from the night before, I thought of Terrance.<\/p>\n
He too was beautiful and brown; and the last man whose sheets I grabbed out of passion and superficial feelings before moving to Canada. Terrance possessed a lot of the qualities I wanted in a man at the time: older, taller, carved of steel, and the proud owner of a delicious iron pipe that curved ever so slightly to the left. Terrance was also a bit too shy for my taste and rarely made the first move, but was a passable gentleman who made a strong effort to remember the content of our shallow conversations.<\/p>\n
We shared a mutual friend and very little else. We met at a party, where he drunkenly decided that \u201cwe would look good together.\u201d There were no fireworks in our conversations, but I persisted out of boredom and curiosity.<\/p>\n
But once the lights were off, strained conversations about current events and parties we attended were reduced to deep moans from bodies in motion. His maleness was novocaine and his mouth was the right amount of dirty.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou like this meat?\u201d he would ask, pushing it further inside me as he hoisted my leg over one of his angular shoulders.<\/p>\n
\u201cYeah…uhhh you know I do.\u201d<\/p>\n
I pressed my nails into his skin.<\/p>\n
\u201cWell let me feel it.\u201d<\/p>\n
Soft squirts of satisfaction sold me out. I went in for a kiss.<\/p>\n
We played truth or dare with trust: clearly unwilling to make it something \u2018real\u2019 but still wanting each other between the thighs in the heat of the night. \u00a0Our ring of fire led us down a hazy non-negotiation of bare pleasure. With no birth control to rely on and secure in a false safety of our sporadic sexual exploits, there was nothing between us under the sheets. Warm outbursts of pleasure splattered on my back and were promptly cleaned up with care. Until next time…<\/p>\n
Until the next time when the pleasure was a bit too intense, the stings of pleasure a bit too sweet, \u2018cause we were a bit tipsy and angry at each other, but too hung up on the sex to stop.
\n
\nI waited a week for the sign \u2013 the red light that told me everything would be okay, at least for another month. I waited anxiously for a few more days…and then another few more.
\nThree weeks passed.<\/p>\n
\u201cGoing to the clinic tomorrow. Feeling sick and still no period,\u201d I texted one night after work.<\/p>\n
\u201cDo you need anything? Let me know what\u2019s happening as soon as you know,\u201d he quickly replied.<\/p>\n
I was too afraid to ask him what he would do if the test came back positive. The idea of bringing a child into the world carried scary thoughts: the loss of a freedom I had treasured for so long, trying to explain my relationship with Terrance to my family, and raising a child without a house or car and lingering student debt. But even scarier was that I was more than a little willing to entertain those thoughts.<\/p>\n
Terrance and I both had good jobs and little financial responsibilities, I rationalised. Yes, we did not know each other that well, but we hardly fought \u2013 well, mostly because he hated confrontation. In my mind, we could be the kind of parents that got along as friends — even if not as lifelong lovers. Wasn\u2019t it time we challenged \u2018the perfect family form?\u2019<\/p>\n
\u201cPlus twenty-seven is a perfectly acceptable age to be a mother,\u201d I thought to myself.<\/p>\n
I sat in the dark and thought of the last time I thought I was pregnant. I was 21 and in love with poison. Venom consumed me until my breasts were swelling, head was dizzy and I could not bear the smell of fried chicken. \u00a0My family doctor encouraged me to call on the strength of Mary to get through \u201cthis trying time\u201d and to see all life as a blessing from God. I couldn\u2019t. I shouldn\u2019t. I won\u2019t.<\/p>\n
I didn\u2019t.<\/p>\n
My cousin held my hand in the waiting room as we sat in the small clinic I had been referred to. I ran into an old classmate by the receptionist\u2019s desk. I wondered if we were there for the same reason.<\/p>\n
The doctor barely looked at me as he explained what was going to happen to me and the alien eating me alive from within. I turned my head to the right as he injected a vein in my left hand.<\/p>\n
I remember a grey steel garbage can.<\/p>\n
I remember red.<\/p>\n
I remember the blues.<\/p>\n
I remember everything and nothing.<\/p>\n
I know everything and nothing.<\/p>\n
Now I was not scared. Now I had a job. Now I had travelled and tried things and seen things and known love and rejected it. Why not<\/i> now?<\/p>\n
\u201cFortunately or unfortunately, you are not pregnant,\u201d the nurse informed me, placing her hand on mine.<\/p>\n
\u201cOh, well.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI am thinking your cycle is going through some kind of change, which is normal. If your period doesn\u2019t come in two weeks, come back to see us and you will take another test.\u201d<\/p>\n
I left the clinic with a mind of muddled emotions. I quickly called Terrence, who no doubt was having trouble focussing at work.<\/p>\n
\u201cNot pregnant,\u201d I said when he picked up the phone.<\/p>\n
He was relieved, and I guess I should have been too. As harrowing as our scare was, we continued to play with fire. Perhaps there was a part of me hoping to get burned.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
Cradled Desires Last night I dreamt of Isabelle. Creamy caramel brown, locks of loose coils framed her face. She was Tuesday\u2019s child: full of grace. She was lithe and long-limbed. Fingers were thin and lashes full. Her tiny lips were puckered and sometimes turned up with faint traces of a […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":3,"featured_media":2566,"parent":193,"menu_order":1,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"closed","template":"","meta":{"_monsterinsights_skip_tracking":false,"_monsterinsights_sitenote_active":false,"_monsterinsights_sitenote_note":"","_monsterinsights_sitenote_category":0,"ngg_post_thumbnail":0,"footnotes":""},"class_list":["post-637","page","type-page","status-publish","has-post-thumbnail","hentry"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.mtls.ca\/issue19\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages\/637","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.mtls.ca\/issue19\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.mtls.ca\/issue19\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/page"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.mtls.ca\/issue19\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/3"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.mtls.ca\/issue19\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=637"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/www.mtls.ca\/issue19\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages\/637\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":2681,"href":"https:\/\/www.mtls.ca\/issue19\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages\/637\/revisions\/2681"}],"up":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.mtls.ca\/issue19\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages\/193"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.mtls.ca\/issue19\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/2566"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.mtls.ca\/issue19\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=637"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}