“Do you smoke?” the doctor asked, as he swivled his chair toward his laptop.
“Not for four years, or so” she replied, smoothing out the crinkles of her papergown.
“It’s good you quit,” he smiled, clicking the mouse. “Shall we begin?”
She lay down, her legs were open, her heels pressed against the metal stirrups.
“Just relax” said the doctor, “Scoot down a bit”
The doctor snapped on a pair of latex gloves, she stared at the poster on the ceiling. Monet’s Waterlillies. She felt the cool slick of jelly inside, her. She felt the warmth of the surgical lamp, she felt a finger enter her body. She closed her eyes, still seeing the ghost of Water Llillies behind her eyes.
“Looks, good” he smiled. “You can sit up...your pictures are just printing, ask the nurse on your way out, and congratulations. Everything looks perfect.” The doctor peeled off his gloves, “You can get dressed.”
She tossed her bag over her shoulder, she had out the pictures in a blue folder labeled “Baby” and made her way down the steps.
She boarded the bus for home. Home. She grinned, and placed her hands on her belly.
The block was alive with music and color. Mothers sat on their stoops with naked toddlers nursing at their breasts. The air smelled of spice and fish and summer bbq’s...she shimmied past a raisin faced old woman with the teeth of a jack o lantern, as she made her way to the door. The old woman sniffed, and pulled out an old, gnawed pipe. The old women never spoke to her, but never hesitated to hiss and form their gnarled fingers into a ‘V’ beneath their rheumy eyes. The old woman lit her pipe, inhaled, and spit 3 times on the stoop.
She jogged up the stairs, elated. Her pregnancy was perfect. The doctor had said that word, perfect...
Inside her apartment the curtains blew in the dusky breeze, she threw her keys into her bag and dropped it on to the couch. She collapsed, exhausted. sprawled like a star on the carpet.
Soon, she would have to cook some dinner for her husband, but right now, was her time. She kicked off her flip flops, and let her toes spread. She kneaded them into the carpet. Sweet relief! ‘How they do this?’ she thought, as her toes broke through her peachy skin. She sat up and pulled her skin to her knees. ‘So confining...so rigid.’ She ripped her skin up to her thighs, her stomach, her breasts...the breeze tickled her naked white scales. She pulled off her face, and moaned. ‘ I am going to be a mother.’
