In the days leading
up to it, Janice kept telling me there was something wrong. She was
even blaming it on menopause. Menopause? Really? You're too young,
I kept thinking, kept saying. I thought it was a combination of
stress, because the woman had a very stressful job. I also thought
it was because her forthcoming birthday. Whatever the reason why she
was late with her period, I never thought it was because of
pregnancy.
I left Portland
City Grill on that Sunday night in December. The walk home through
the rain was nothing more than what it was, a walk home. Getting
home meant getting back to my book. At the time it was A Coney
Island of the Mind and On the Road and Looking for Mr.
Goodbar. Yes, the December books were pretty cool. I sat in the
living room at the corner of the sofa under the lamp as the rain fell
in sheets outside and Janice slept peacefully in the bedroom.
But on this night,
things ended very differently than they began. I turned out all the
lights, brushed my teeth and headed for bed. As an afterthought, I
decided to floss my teeth. When I tossed the used dental floss in
the trash, I saw the pregnancy test. “What the fuck is this?” I
said. As I examined the test stick, confused on more levels than
one, I noticed the second test in the can just under it. I looked
through the medicine cabinet for the directions.
Sleep was not with
me that night.
In the morning, I
thought I'd just ask: “Janice, are you knocked up?” I was back
on the sofa and she was just out of the shower. “Evidently,” she
said. It was a bit of a snarky reply.
There is something
very amazing about pregnancy. There was for me, at least. The two
of us talked about the events to come, the doctor visits, the
classes, the change of lifestyle, and the eventual addition to our
very small group.
