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Show Moon - 243 learn the hard way that we aren't supposed to heap it on ourselves, or we die sooner than we ought to. Caleb says he doesn't remember much of his childhood. What does he do, I wonder, with the need to be tike and not like, his father? Somewhere in his blood sing the same longings as mine, but not everyone chooses to remember. He is drumming his fingers on the table and looking bored, his green eyes far away. I ask him about school, urge him to talk politics, and sit back to let his strong, confident voice wash over me. He is intelligent, maybe brilliant, impersonal and precise. My brother. My brothers. Loving is not having. Loving is saying, "Okay, be a cat if you want." I leave them sitting at the cafe to walk the few blocks to my doctor's appointment. I hold my hand over my stomach, afraid of falling, afraid of harm. The doctor is easy, gentle. I can even joke a little. I feel young, as if I'm starting over. The nurse smiles at me kindly as he reaches into the soft sweet nest. After I'm dressed, I go into the doctor's office and wait for him to tell me. He glances at his chart, says, "You mentioned some irregular bleeding." "Oh yes." I wave that aside. "But not any more." Then I begin to worry. Maybe he's going to tell me I'll need my mother's operation, or worse. I brace myself. I will refuse. "Have you had hot flashes?" "What?" He flips his hand outward. "Oh, suddenly feeling very hot, sweating at night." I am silent, seeing a possibility too remote to absorb. I whisper, "Yes." "It's interesting, for your cervix is blue." |
