Steam still clung to the glass shower door. Water dripped onto the white tile as Maya combed her long, auburn hair stick strait down to her bare shoulder blades. The door that lead to the house’s master bedroom slowly crept open to create a long black sliver extending from the ceiling to the floor. Michael stuck his nose in through the crack, his lips were the only visible flesh in the light beaming from above the bathroom sink. He backed out just a bit, the slight scent of lavender rolling off her soaked skin caused his stomach to churn with nausea.
“It’s quarter past six, Maya. I’m going to start putting the tables out. Grass is just about dry.”
Maya’s eyes never left her sight in her reflection. The hairbrush stroked the same damp strands again and again.
“We can wait another week, you know.” Her voice was barely audible above the humming of the gaudy fluorescent bulbs. She cleared her throat with a soft ruffle-unsettling phlegm in her throat formed from the consumption of moist air in the shower.
“No. It’s time. I’ll go set up the tables. Bring out the cloths when you are dressed.” His tongue lapped his pink lips before disappearing behind the door as it clasped shut.
Maya’s eyes never left her sight in her reflection. The hairbrush stroked the same damp strands again and again.
“We can wait another week, you know.” Her voice was barely audible above the humming of the gaudy fluorescent bulbs. She cleared her throat with a soft ruffle-unsettling phlegm in her throat formed from the consumption of moist air in the shower.
“No. It’s time. I’ll go set up the tables. Bring out the cloths when you are dressed.” His tongue lapped his pink lips before disappearing behind the door as it clasped shut.
After draping the damp towel neatly around the shower rod, Maya walked down the long hallway of the second floor foyer. Above the railing, the crystal chandelier hung over the hardwood den below. The leather wrap-around couch and a new high-def television sat in silence-four cloth sheets sprawled out on the furniture. Behind an old wooden chest they received for their wedding from her in-laws, there were the windows that lead as a portal out into the front yard. Michael was hunched over a gray card table, straitening the legs until the top stood flat and sturdy. She looked away, even her husband looked like an alien to her today. She had been putting off this weekend for two months now, and it was this feeling of loneliness that she had been dreading.
Her breath shortened as she reached the marble staircase, swallowing the lump in her throat. It was just another Saturday, she whispered to herself. Only it wasn't. It would finally happen today, not next weekend. And surely not the next.
Her breath shortened as she reached the marble staircase, swallowing the lump in her throat. It was just another Saturday, she whispered to herself. Only it wasn't. It would finally happen today, not next weekend. And surely not the next.
Maya imagined what this evening would be like- after a part of her was laid out on ten dollar walmart card tables and snatched up for another’s story to unfold upon. The newly-wed neighbors could be tucking in their new born in one of her baby’s blankets, another would by untying white laces from a pair of green booties. A part of her and Michael’s life would soon be a staple of happiness in another family’s life.
Her hazel eyes darted to an empty room on the right. The sunlight had just spread its first rays on the vacant yellow walls. A tight pull in her chest and her eyes darted back to lead her forward. Each step felt like an attempt to lift lead pillars as she made her way down to the pile of boxes stacked at the front door. The bottom one with a big S, the one on top of that with two lower case b’s. Shoes and bibs, she thought. To the left there was a pile of old work shirts from Michael’s days at the lawn and leafy center where he landscaped during the weekends in the summer while she was six months pregnant. “I don’t mind getting my hands dirty, as long as we get to spoil her rotten” she heard his distant remark echo in her ear. She left the boxes by the door and walked to the cloths draped over the back of the couch.
****
“Look! Carrie looks like a little peanut!” Maya squealed, her index finger tracing a small pocket of light on the printed sonogram.
Michael gently pinched the other side of the film, “Ha, you mean Christian. Look at that strapping jaw line and his already bulging biceps!”
Maya nudged her husband of one year-next Friday-just below the rib cage. “CARRIE doesn’t appreciate your humor, dear.” She got up on her tip toes and pecked his cheek, “But good thing I adore it.”
“But in all honesty, if it is a boy, we decided on Christian, right?” Michael let go so his wife could insert the picture back into the manila envelope that held several more photos taken from the sides of his wife’s abdomen.
“Of course we can, honey. And if it’s a girl, we agreed on Carrie Magdalene after my grandmother.”
“I guess. You know I am half tempted to say no. You know, the first time I met your family she announced to your parents I looked like a drowned muskrat.” Michael ran his palm across his prickly scalp, feeling an intense longing for his previously moppy hairstyle that he took pride in since his freshman year at Boston.
“Well it’s a good thing you showered and cut your hair before the wedding. Or she probably would have informed the entire wedding party too.” Maya rolled her eyes and skipped a few steps ahead on the pavement.
Michael marveled at his wife in the worn in pink spring dress they found at Fabulous Finds thrift store just down the street from their new home. How did I end up so lucky, he whispered to himself? He wiped his wrists clean of any dirt that still clenched his pores from that morning’s early trip to the mulch farm. Then he crept up behind her, catching her off guard, and lifted his still-thin wife into the august sun.
“Look! Carrie looks like a little peanut!” Maya squealed, her index finger tracing a small pocket of light on the printed sonogram.
Michael gently pinched the other side of the film, “Ha, you mean Christian. Look at that strapping jaw line and his already bulging biceps!”
Maya nudged her husband of one year-next Friday-just below the rib cage. “CARRIE doesn’t appreciate your humor, dear.” She got up on her tip toes and pecked his cheek, “But good thing I adore it.”
“But in all honesty, if it is a boy, we decided on Christian, right?” Michael let go so his wife could insert the picture back into the manila envelope that held several more photos taken from the sides of his wife’s abdomen.
“Of course we can, honey. And if it’s a girl, we agreed on Carrie Magdalene after my grandmother.”
“I guess. You know I am half tempted to say no. You know, the first time I met your family she announced to your parents I looked like a drowned muskrat.” Michael ran his palm across his prickly scalp, feeling an intense longing for his previously moppy hairstyle that he took pride in since his freshman year at Boston.
“Well it’s a good thing you showered and cut your hair before the wedding. Or she probably would have informed the entire wedding party too.” Maya rolled her eyes and skipped a few steps ahead on the pavement.
Michael marveled at his wife in the worn in pink spring dress they found at Fabulous Finds thrift store just down the street from their new home. How did I end up so lucky, he whispered to himself? He wiped his wrists clean of any dirt that still clenched his pores from that morning’s early trip to the mulch farm. Then he crept up behind her, catching her off guard, and lifted his still-thin wife into the august sun.
****
TO BE CONTINUED...
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