Chapter 23: Livebearer
It's gross that I placed the blue and white sticks on the kitchen table. It's something about holding them that makes me anxious. I've convinced myself it's for the convenience of my own denial. A new meaning to eye level, the thoughts of being overdramatic become the vanishing point for symptoms of self-awareness.
Everything has come down to two windows. They're a sight to see. Crystal clear, yet no way to see me out from them. It's really a one-way deal. I've been sitting on my hands, staring at the sans serif font for the last twenty minutes.
Jake bought the most expensive test he could find. Have they made a talking test yet? I'm sure it would've been worth every penny for the thing to speak for me because my lips quiver at the thought of uttering the phrase.
There it is, reflecting back at me through the tiny windows. One even says it in plain digital letters, "Pregnant".
I flip the other stick on its face. The plus sign was turning into a damning cross. I stare up at the ceiling and just think, is this what happens when desire is caught by reality? How unholy of me.
"I bought the right test, right?" Jake cuts into my private party. He's laid his face on the table, ear pressed to the wood, eyes peering into mine.
I nod my head at the love coming from down below. Sure, you're invited. I've already let you come inside. We're past ringing bells and knocking on doors. Make yourself comfortable. Let's get to the part where we're both holding red cups and making out on the couch. I don't intend to let you leave. This is the party of a lifetime. Refuting the accuracy would be a joke.
"Ok, 'cause there was the pregnancy test and then like some ovulation thing in a box set of six or eight," His words trail off at the sight of my hand flipping the other test on its face.
So we're going to pretend you don't have eyes. Are you going to make me say it out loud? This is not the part where I yell surprise in forced exclamation. I never said this was that type of party.
What's the appropriate reaction or response to the obvious? I'm breathing in all the air my lungs can hold, but there's not enough space in the world to exhale. My forehead is heating up and my eyeballs are sandpaper dry.
It's all my fault. To love someone unprotected is the most predictable yet unnerving experience. I told him to come inside. I told him how much I love him. I ache for him. Have my desires been chasing reality?
My need to have him forever, to carry his child. I was asking for it, tangible love. Is that nature, the animal in me? Is it simply my origins rearing their ugly head, that low place like home. I'll be a teen mom, just like Renee. I wonder if I'll be as weak as her too? Either way, I want it all. Either way, I refuse to squander the pure.
It's a baby. It will love me unconditionally. It will call me momma. It will depend on me. It will need my love and protection. Do I deserve to keep it?
Every emotion that has crossed my face has been observed in the worst way. Cheek still pressed to the grain, he holds that round-eyed expression. He knew before I did.
"Jake," I nearly jumped at the sound of my voice. I speak much louder than weak resolve and puzzled intentions. The woman in me is clawing at my navel.
"Yeah?"
"Jake, I'm pregnant."
"Yeah," His voice and eyes are so calm and buttery in affirmation.
I search his face for a sign of comprehension, fear, or stress. He definitely has ears.
I'm sure you heard me, but are you listening? Somebody's eyes, ears, nose, and mouth are growing inside me right now.
He glides his hand up my arm and along my neck, his fingertips grazing my prickly skin. I lick my lips as he guides my face down to his. Our breathing becomes oddly calm before our lips touch.
This kiss is rough and messy, but soothing. He rests his hand at the base of my skull, holding me in place like a paperweight on standard loose leaf. I'm fixated on the taste of his tongue, the way his teeth nibble at the rim of my lips. I moan in all-consuming pleasure.
He breaks the trance for air, breathlessly whispering, "Aren't you happy?"
My eyes flutter at the disarming passion. He's happy. He loves me. I can breathe. His tongue dives in again with rapture until I'm pushing at his chest for mercy. He only lets me pull away slightly to stare deep into his eyes.
Jake's voice flows in a chokehold of intoxicating essence, "Promise you'll love me from the inside. Promise me you'll keep it." He shifts our balance, til he's upright with me, warm hands holding the sides of my slightly bloated abdomen. "I'm so greedy when it comes to you. I know I'm supposed to ask you what you want to do. It should be your choice, but I can't bring myself to ask." His words fill the whole room with a yearning vibe.
It feels like begging the way he pours the rest into my waiting mouth, "You felt this coming too. The first time you smiled at me, it was like seeing for the first time. Suddenly sitting in that diner on that particular day made sense. When you pointed that harpoon at my head and looked me in the eye, I saw it. The first night you let me inside, I knew. And when you parted those legs for me, I couldn't resist. All the love I would ever need would come from you. Don't make me ask. I have to have you. No matter how dark my soul is, everything will be a derivative of life with you. My children will come from you."
His thick brows are bunched together. Cold, black hair tousled behind his ears, his cheeks slightly flush. Such a violent man can be so gentle and expressive. These hands that tear men apart can love me so much. These eyes that have seen gore, can see life in me. If I allow myself to trust in our connection, I believe I can have all of him. I want him to grow within me. I want to swell from his pride.
Will our baby look just like you with eyes that make my lungs shake, mellow tan skin, plump pillow lips, and thick raven hair wrapped in an aura reminiscent of an angel? I run my fingertips along his high cheekbones and sharp jaw.
I want an angel.
Oh, how I love the serpent. He puts ideas in my head that I know I don't deserve. He lets my imagination breed with my desires.
And to ask me if I'm happy. As if I could feel discomfort from Jake rubbing my belly and muffin top, kissing the corner of my lips and hollows of my neck, looking at me in awe and promise. His words give me love and importance.
I feel the pressure of your comfort plundering my insecurities.
Can an angel be forged from darkness?
"I'm scared, Jake." I bunch my toes within my socks.
"Because you don't want to have a baby with me," his tone is flat and emotionless.
"No, I never said that."
"You might as well," his voice cracks. The guarded words bleed through his fingertips. I'm hurting him.
"Last time this came up, Sue tried to give me a fertility blanket, you freaked, and refused to talk to me. The last thing I thought you wanted from me was a baby. I didn't let myself even think about being pregnant." The last thing I thought you would give me is a baby.
"Why would you think I was freaking out about you? This is us. Sue was the one sticking her nose in our relationship."
"What was I supposed to think? The one time someone mentioned us sharing something more, you disappeared."
"Would it have been better to tell you to move in with me, marry me, give me at least three kids to carry the legacy of the first bloodline? Should I have promised the council a son within the next year? I was protecting you. I told Sue no because I didn't want to scare you away, move too fast, overwhelm you, but I guess it's too late for that." Jake takes a deep breath and begs, "What can I do? I wish we could've done this smoother." His large hands cup my elbows. "Just tell me and I'll fix it."
Is that what you want? For me to tell you the truth? I'll hurt my own feelings. You can't fix what already is.
"Can't you feel the nervous tension? I'm pregnant. I don't know where to start, what to do. I graduate in a few months. I mean I work at the diner for Christ's sake. I can barely take care of myself."
"You're going to quit working." He gently kisses my rough hands.
"What. Um, no." We're using guns to cure headaches now?
Why do the pillars of my life feel like a string of buoys bobbing in the open waters? I can feel currents forming and pushing from every breath. It's like I've been sitting too long but I'm too exhausted to stand up. My chest is so tight and constricted. I'm getting lightheaded at the edge of my seat.
Who the fuck am I?
"You have to quit. There's no way I'll have you working, standing on your feet for long hours. You're carrying my baby. You're supposed to move in with me, and make hand knits and cradleboards with the other moms."
I shake my head. That's not me. I don't know how to do any of that stuff.
"I want you to be happy. I'll take care of the rest. We'll visit the elders. We can see a doctor in town. Don't worry about the small stuff."
"It's not that simple, Jake."
"You're my claimed. My woman and child belong in the first house with me. There's nothing to think about. You are my family. It will always be that simple."
My eyes blink rapidly.
He's already using collective nouns.
"Jake, I pay the mortgage here. Fishing quotas are going up. I'm helping my dad pay for everything around here. I— have responsibilities, big stuff," My words are sputtered, nonlinear. At the same time, they sound so small in contrast to a baby, an angel.
His hands grip me tighter. "Let me take care of it. Let me take care of you. We're starting a family. I love you." Jake has an answer for everything. Him. That's it, just leave my worries to him.
I listen to the humming refrigerator. The thought of doing what my heart wants terrifies me. I used to dream of leaving this house behind and now I'm clinging to it. There's no security in the unknown, so I cling to the mundane dysfunction. Isn't that what Edward said; I think about doing a lot of things but never actually do them.
"I know I'm not the best guy to have a kid with, but the rejection is hurting me. Make me understand the silence." Jake's voice sounds like I'm ripping him apart.
"It's not you that I'm worried about. You're perfect. I've never seen you smoke or gamble. You wouldn't spend your last on a bottle. You won't take off on a greyhound bus with a duffel bag. I love you so much, you could never mess up. One reassuring look and I'll take bullshit if that's all you've got, but It's me. I don't know if I'm mom material."
My own words are breaking my heart and ripping holes in my fantasies. "I thought that I could— I thought that this would— I have some pretty fucked up parents. I don't know how to be 'family'. I don't know how to do any of the stuff you talked about. I want to keep the baby. I want a family. I just— Are you sure you wanna do this with me because…I mean, think about it, I don't have anything to offer a baby. Look at me, Jake. Sometimes I don't think I'm rooted in reality. I just exist. I'm meandering through life." I choke back the tears. There's nothing like the hot skewer of self-hatred.
"Bella, what? You're— why would you even think that. I don't want anyone else to tie me to this earth, to reality, and dreams but you. I know I'm asking a lot. I don't live the safest life or the happiest days but this would make me happy. I want to create life with you. That's my baby, Bella. I know I'm tying you to the Rez, something you don't completely understand, but I can't do life without you. You don't see how vital you are. You are 'mom material'. Your presence claims my soul. You're sweet and good-natured. You're safe and understanding and compassionate. Don't ever think you're not enough. You are more than enough. You are everything to me. Please bear my child. Just quit that job and come home with me. We don't doubt each other. We don't doubt ourselves. This is togetherness."
He pulls me into his chest. "Que quowle, Bella."
I nod and let my tears fall. I want his child no matter how ill-equipped I am. No matter how much we lay in the darkness, I will hold this baby up to the light. I want to be able to say I love you more than anyone else in this world. Isn't that what a good mom would do?
A good mom would fling the dirt off of her baby. I cannot be my parents. Otherwise, my baby won't have a chance. They'll be like everyone else in this town.
Which is how Jake got me to sit in a doctor's office after school. He snatched me up in the parking lot and kissed me slowly, softly. His fingertips lightly skimmed the skin above my waistband.
"Are you gonna keep doing that?" My attention falls to his thumb rubbing circles over my belly button.
"You don't like it?" Whispers of his hair flow with the wind. Jake's hands glide further up my sweater.
My core churns in heat and my ears pulse from his flaring fire. My blood hums at the rush. I can listen to him talk for hours. I watch his full lips turn up in a smile, a smile so sweet I bring myself forward to taste them. The tip of my tongue plays with his around and around in fizzing circles.
I don't think we've ever done this before, a kiss in the presence of others. An open-eyed kiss is a type that makes you blind. Our aura is sensual with volatile undercurrents.
"I like it. I like it a lot. It makes me feel safe." My arms wrap around his neck before we hear a book hit the pavement.
We both watch a random round-eyed, nervous freshman drop a biology textbook. Their horrified expression brought me back to reality. It must look odd for people to see me running into the arms of a big scary native man with tattoos visible on his neck and forearms. Everyone in the parking lot is feasting their eyes on the sight.
Yet, I refuse to let go. Jacob's hands remain glued to my skin and I wouldn't have it any other way. I will not be ashamed.
He speaks with his lips pressed to my forehead, "Come on. Are you ready?" He flings my backpack into the back seat before letting me climb in.
I look up from the seatbelt clasp to find him staring at someone.
"Who's the guy parked across from us?"
Of all the days for my luck to run out, I hold my breath before I expel the truth, "That's Mike."
Jacob's hands freeze on the seat buckle and his shoulders tense. I can feel the aggression creeping. His eyes darken as he watches Mike through the windshield. Jake is tracking his every move like a hawk.
"Jake," I warn. "Jake, look at me." I shook my head profusely.
I grab his cheeks and force him to make eye contact. "Not here." I fervently kiss his tight lips and beg for him to "get in the car. We don't want to be late. Our appointment is in thirty minutes." This rage feels like it could turn into something much worse than what happened behind the bar. He might actually kill Mike in front of the entire student body.
I try again, this time slow and melodic, "We're already cutting it close. We have to fill out forms and do the ultrasound. Maybe we can hear the heartbeat. Don't you want to hear the heartbeat?" Because I really don't want to hear Mike's heartbeat stop. I just want to feel Jake's rhythm slow down and match mine.
I exhale in relief when he gets in and puts the car in drive.
"I'm sorry." He takes my hand in his and kisses my wrist above the pulse. His eyes remain on the road but his voice is sincere.
"You have nothing to apologize for." I lean over to the driver's side and kiss the corner of his lips. "I want to kill him too."
And the apologetic vibe turns into chortles. This is togetherness.
It's all silence and glances until we reach the doctor's office.
Smothered by Jacob in the waiting room feels foreign. Peppered kisses to my cheek, sweet whispers of love, and an arm wrapped around me at all times, I start to get a little embarrassed when he whispers in my ear, "Did I tell you how beautiful you look today?"
I search the room for witnesses of his atypical display of affection. "Jake, please," my voice shakes at the shameless compliment.
I politely smile at a few women peering over their magazines. I'm sure my face has turned beet red.
The potential scrutiny goes over Jake's head. He's too busy playing with my hair. "Who were those two you were talking to on the school steps?"
So the stares do bother him.
I offhandedly explain, "Oh that was Anita's daughter Angela and Eric. Eric Yorkie, his family owns a cattle farm… We kinda all grew up together."
"Hhhmmm. They were staring pretty hard. Did they ask you who I was?" His finger loops around one of my curls.
"Yeah."
"What'd you say?"
"I told them." I dodge the question, waving the clipboard. "Do you have any hereditary illness in your family, mister dad?"
"No, miss mom." He takes the clipboard from me. His hand scribbles information in the empty spaces. "Don't evade the topic. Do you ever talk about me with your friends? Who'd you say I was?" His genuine inquiry is layered between his joking timber and self-conscious air.
I haven't seen him like this since the first time we met at the diner.
"My loving man," I say in a dramatic, lascivious purr.
I look over his shocked expression before we burst out into laughter from my poor acting.
"But to answer your question, I don't talk about our relationship with my friends. Angie knows I'm involved with a native because I wear your sweaters all the time but that's about it. Angie and Eric… we're just not that close anymore. Anyone who asks, I'll tell them the same."
I almost drop the clipboard when my name is called.
"Isabella," a nasal voice summons me. The old nurse's eyes look over her cat-eye frames. She's been taking glances from behind the desk since we walked in.
We're led to a sterile room where she instructs me to, "Disrobe at the bottom and lay on the table with this gown over you. The doctor will be in shortly."
We stare at each other and almost burst into laughter again from the awkward introduction and plastic uterus sitting in the room.
The doctor's a younger gentleman who's scared to look Jake in the eyes. His hands trembled a little when he shook our hands. The whole room went up in nervous jitters.
His gentle probing lowered my anxiety to bearable proportions. The cool wand made me squirm on the table. Jake quickly took my hand. And things got very real.
"Yep, there it is. You can't see too much. Your chart says you're close to eight weeks so," He clicks a few buttons and we hear the heartbeat for the first time.
Blub blub,
"Woah." Jake's eyes dance across the monitor. His hand grips mine tighter.
Blub blub,
"There's the head and the body," points to the figure on the screen.
It looks like a blob to me, but it's so beautiful. I can't stop the tears. There's a heartbeat. There's my baby.
"Looks healthy so far. I want to see you again in four weeks. Congratulations, it was nice meeting mom and dad today." hands me two sets of sonogram prints.
I can't take my eyes off of our baby.
Hope you're still with me. Thank you for reading.