I lay on the bench, and she pulled the bow of the cord of the lace up panel of my skirt. I wriggled a bit, and pulled my skirt down to my hips. She pushed her fingers, her middle finger and index finger, over my belly. Somehow when she did it, it felt soft, my belly. Cool, and soft. She pressed down, and tapped her fingers. "Is this ok? does this hurt" "no. its ok". Behind the curtain, I could hear the sound of a lawnmower, being driven up and dow outside on a strip of grass next to the footpath. She kept the curtain drawn until I had time to pull my skirt back up again. She gave me a script anyway, in case everything was normal. I could just start again. *************************************************** I haven't cared. I haven't cared about anyone really. Thats a lie. I have cared. Just on a smaller capacity than usual. *************************************************** I viewed the world differently. Four weeks. Each day, was different. The level of paranoia would rise or fall, depending on circumstances. I tormented myself sometimes. I tried to avoid confrontations. I avoided talking, for a lot of time. Other times, I picked fights. Look at *everything* around you - take off the blinkers - music isn't important - arguments aren't important - art is not important - its the joy of a society with too much time on its hands to have the luxury to be selfish in its thoughts. I withdrew. I pushed out. I was alone. I was lonely. I was strong. I didn't need people. I didn't need the trivia of every day flutterings. I had something. A stone in my life as solid as I have ever felt, with fuzzy edges of uncertainty. If this was real. If it is real. Its the biggest deal in my life, and I didn't have time to listen to people. I didn't have time to be compassionate if they had bickering arguements and wanted me to listen and tell them they were right, so-and-so is a bad person, you were misunderstood and hard done by and you have your cross to bear and I don't blame you. Stuff that. I needed someone. Some reacted with compassion. Others without. I know who they all are now. ********************************************* At first, I told nobody. I put it to the back of my mind. Ah well, I thought. A few days is ok. It gives me a few days to relax before it arrives. I don't need to suffer just now. It can wait. I don't mind. In fact, I'm a bit glad its not here. Gives me more time. More time before the outbreak of spots, and pains, and aches, and tears and emotions going haywire. *********************************************** A week passes. I'm getting a bit concerned, but i put it down to one of those things. I'm on the pill afterall. Maybe, this is just one of those things. So its late. It'll be here soon, right? Stay off the pill for a few days more. Let my body catch up. ************************************************ Two weeks. It really should be here by now. Thats when it starts. And I tell someone. I tell someone else. Dare I buy a test? No. I can't. Theres too much against buying one. It'll be here soon, maybe. ******************************************* Options. Choices. Do I believe I can handle this, and if so, how much can I handle? ******************************************* Week three. I call the doctors and make my appointment. I live in a daze for days. I snap at people. I cry. I feel trapped. I panic. I worry. I cry. I snap at people. I forget things at work. I sleep. I sleep. I sleep. I don't care about other peoples situations right now. Who said what to whom, who hates who, nip nip nip. I see women with kids. Oh god no. I don't want to be a Pauline Quirk typecast character. Save me from a BBC stereotype. I imagine her. I give her a name. She falls asleep to certain music. She cries. Her nappy smells. I can't buy a test kit. Too much... too much surrounding me. I need privacy. I had to make the doctors appointment through a cunning cloak and dagger manouver. They always ask, at the recepiton what its for. The prospect, of sitting there at work, or at home, saying "Oh, my period is late, so yeah can I find out if I'm pregnant" really doesn't appeal. I hate the receptionists at the doctors. They do it on purpose. They have no thought, no consideration. *************************************************** I like the name Sofia. *************************************************** Week Four. Days to wait til my doctors appointment. I won't take a self test kit. How would I dispose of the evidence? just throw it in the bin? What happens, my folks spot it when they go to throw out something else? At work? ********************************************* The doctor spoke to me. I told her I wasn't worried. I was. Of course I was. The odds were against it, but the chances are always there. She told me to get a tube from the reception, and gives me a note. I need to take the sample first thing in the morning, after I've been asleep, and its all concentrated. If I was to do it now, she says,. i might get a false negative result. Bring it in during the morning, she says. And then they can give me the results in the afternoon. I hadn't been in a blur, not for a week. Post appointment, I walk past the chemists, and newsagents, stuffing my little clear bag with the tube in it, deep inside my handbag. I listen to music, and find myself drifting in thought. I can't imagine.. the reality. The worst scenario, of course, in three years time, and thats ok. But the immediate worst case scenario, in the short term. ************************************************* I'll wait until the weekend, I decide. Less suspicious then. Two doctors appointments in a week? People will wonder. No wondering until I know. ************************************************* I was going to ask if you knew anything, had any ideas. *********************************************** I feel the same. My body doesn't feel bigger. I've not been throwing up. My belly is soft. *********************************************** Theres a woman and a tiny baby in the foyer. I watch them. ********************************************* I smile. I grin. I want to sing. I skip out. Almost five weeks. But eventually, like Norman's bus in the film Ghost World, it arrived. I grin. I smile, I laugh, I email my friends. I text others. ********************************************* Sofia, I'll be your mother when I'm ready. ******************************************** Love Idles x ===== http://groups.yahoo.com/group/corduroysmoke/ starting playground gossip and passing notes __________________________________________________ Do you Yahoo!? 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