Ending The Pregnancy
“I am pregnant”.
I watch you mouth the words.
You are pregnant.
Pregnant. For a few seconds, this word does not make sense to me. It sounds foreign. Greek? Pregnant? I don’t recognize it, nor understand what it means. I am not sure I have heard it before. Have I? I mouth the word myself. To taste its flavour upon my tongue. Its texture between my teeth. Its aftertaste as it leaves my mouth. Pregnant.
Saying it doesn’t make it any clearer. Saying it deepens my confusion. Worsens the whirlwind in my head; what do you mean by that? You are pregnant?
Never have I felt for a woman what I feel for you. Never has a woman been so perfect in my eyes. The way you hold your spoon, the way you put food inside your mouth, the way you proceed to chew it, swallow it, the way you walk, the way you swing your hands as you walk, the way you tilt your head to the left when talking, the way a smile dances around your lips when you are amused, the way you allow the smile to spread slowly to the rest of your face like a flower entertains the sun’s nudge by spreading its petals, the way you close your eyes and tilt your head back when laughing as if you are reluctant to allow the laugher to leave your body entirely, the way you touch the nape of my neck when I kiss you, the way you taste, the way you smell, the way you put your hands against my chest every time I am about to bid you goodbye, the way you mould your body to mine every time I give you a hug.
You are perfect. Not pregnant.
I know perfect. I recognize perfect because I see it in you. I don’t know what pregnant means.
I don’t know pregnant because you never gave me the chance to acquaint myself with it. I was looking forward to touching you. Pleasuring you. Loving you so insanely that the meaning of love would pale in comparison to what I did to you.
Not yet, you said. I taught myself to hold back. Every time my body disobeyed my commands, and it did all the time, I cooled it off with a cold shower. Not yet, I repeated.
I only took what you gave me.
You never gave me a chance to make you pregnant.
Why did you give him though? Why did you pull away from my kiss when you stuck your tongue deeper into his mouth? Why did you stop me when I reached out for your bra strap only to help him unhook it? Why did you slap away my hand, a hand that was burning to touch your perfect body when you let both of his cup your boobs?
What did he do that I did not? Did his tongue set your mouth on fire? Did it make you speechless? Gag you so that you were unable to stop him like you stopped me? How did he get you to let him in? Where did he touch you that I missed? What did he say to you that I forgot to say? What did he give you that I couldn’t? Could he have delivered the stars to your doorstep? Did he fetch you the moon? Or did he only give you his heart. Like I did mine? Like me, did he give you all of him?
You could not resist him. You resisted me. I’m confused. Did you not say you love me? Did I not come onto you strong enough? Did I respect your wishes too much? Was I too tender? Were my kisses too soft? Was my tongue too prodding? Did I call you too fanatically? Did my texting go overboard? Was my WhatsApp kiss ‘Good morning’ too routine? Did I care too much? Was my concern for your happiness overwhelming? Did I worship the ground you walk on too zealously? Did I marvel too much at your beauty? Were the roses I sent you every Sunday too beautiful? Did they smell too sweet?
You don’t want his baby, you say. You want to get rid of it, you insist. I always give you what you want. I don’t know how not to do so now. So, yes. We will end this pregnancy that you don’t want; can’t say I am crazy about it either. Ending the pregnancy will make everything ok again. You promise that once it is out, you will be solely mine. No one else’s.
I want to believe you.
We will go back home after. And we will pick up our love, our lives, from where we left. I will kiss you. I will touch you. You will not stop me now. You will be solely mine. You promise.
With the pregnancy out of the way, is everything ok now? Am I happy that you don’t stop me from going all the way? Am I elated that I don’t have to take a cold shower to cool off? Am I glad that another man’s child is not growing inside you? Even as you swear that there is nobody else in your life but me, is there nobody else in your life but me? Is there nobody else? Does my heart still belong to you? Are you still the only woman in my life? Will I always give you what you want? Do I still think that you are perfect?