Page 83 of Lovers' Dance: Vol. 2

I inhaled sharply. I wasn’t alarmed, I was terrified. How could we not be on the same page with this? Forget race issues. Black, white, purple, green. All that shit paled in comparison when it came to getting knocked up. I couldn’t become a parent. I didn’t have that knowledge. What if I was a bad mom? My own mother was long dead, and my aunt who raised me probably hated my guts now. There was no doubt I would be a bad mom…mess the poor kid up for life with my craziness.

“And what about my weight? You know a ballerina has to be a certain weight. It’s only by sheer luck the weight doesn’t seem to stay on me even if I sometimes eat crap. That might change if I get pregnant. You never told me you wanted kids.”

Matt’s throat bobbed up and down. His breathing was steady, as if he was trying to calm himself down. Well, good for him. I wasn’t calm. I felt as if he’d pulled a fast one on me. Duped me. Tricked me. He was a trickster.

“I’ll be 38 this year,” he repeated. “And I want to enjoy playing with my children as they grow up sans the worry of being too old to run about after them. I’ll be 38, Madison.”

“So what?” I was pressed against the opposite end of the tub now, as far away from him I could get within its confines. “It’s not my fault you’re older than me.”

Matt stood up abruptly, the water cascaded down his naked body in a manner that would make anyone say ‘hot damn’. Female and male alike. Not me though. I was too far into my freak out stage to pay attention to the way the rivulets of water accentuated the linesof his chest, the chiselled planes of his stomach, the…I kept my eyes above neck level.

“I think it’s best for us to discontinue this conversation,” Matt advised as he got out the tub and reached for a towel. “At least until we’ve both calmed down.”

Then he stormed out the en-suite leaving me alone. A loud, angry sob fell from my lips as I sat in the tub. Why were we always fighting? This wasn’t the way marriage was supposed to be. At least not for a few years. And this baby crap. He couldn’t be serious. The manner in which he spoke gave the impression of him wanting to have a child ASAP, and Matthew Bradley always got what he wanted.

Oh no. Oh fuck no.

I jumped out the tub and literally slid over to the bathroom cabinet. With shaking hands I yanked it open and pulled out my birth control pills. My mind was a mess and I needed visual confirmation I had taken one this morning. I had. Thank you, Jesus. But that didn’t stop me from dry swallowing another one with a desperation borne of sheer fear.

Fools rush in where angels fear to tread.Why had that saying popped into my disjointed thoughts? Was it because it had been coined by the English writer Alexander Pope and I was living in England right now? Ok, that was grasping at straws. I was freaking out and seriously considering whether I had made a colossal mistake…for the umpteenth time since we returned from our honeymoon.

The tiles were wet beneath my feet as the water dripped down my naked body. I put the pills back then slowly made my way over to empty the bath water. Matt had never given me any indication that he wanted kids, not once. What did this mean for us as a married couple? Jesus, Mary and Joseph. How much about the man I had wedded did I actually know? I loved him, with every fibre of my being, but sometimes love wasn’t enough. Compatibility was key, communication was key. Did we have either?

Marry in haste, repent at leisure. Damn it! Another scary quote had popped up in my head. This one also coined by another Englishman. What was his name? Ah yes, William Congreve.

“I’ve lost my mind.” I mumbled out loud. On that unsettling note, I grabbed a towel and dried off before cautiously leaving the en-suite to get dressed. Thankfully, Matt was not in our bedroom. I stayedupstairs for an hour, only venturing downstairs when I was certain George had returned from his errands. There was safety in numbers.

Matt, true to his word, had made dinner for me. I could smell the delicious scent of beef within seconds of entering the hallway. My handsome husband was walking out the kitchen as I was coming towards it.

“I was just on my way to get you,” he said. “Dinner’s ready.”

The look we shared was an uncomfortable one. Heavy, tense, unspoken turmoil.

“Ok.” That was all I could manage to say.

Dinner was filled with silence. The only noise came from the clinking of our utensils as we ate. I wished George would join us but knew he wouldn’t dare.

“We should get an early night.” Matt was staring at the half-filled decanter while I fiddled with the steak on my plate.

“Ok.” I mumbled, mentally berating myself for not using a wider range of vocabulary. What should I say? Sorry, I don’t want to pop your babies out? Yeah, that would go down like a lead balloon.

Matt looked over at me and the shadows lingering in his grey eyes hurt my soul.

“I, uh,” I pushed back my chair. “I’m going to head up now.”

“You’ve not finished your food, Madi.” Matt said.

“I’m stuffed.” I went to grab my plate and Matt reached out for my hand but stopped just shy of touching me.

“Leave it. George will clear up after.” he said.

“Ok.”

“Madi, I,” Matt paused and the air caught in my throat. A twisted smile flickered over his face. It carried a distinct edge of bitterness. He regarded me for a second then said, “I’ll see you up there.”

With a quick nod I turned on my heels and tried not to run out the kitchen. When I walked into our bedroom, the bed seemed to mock me. It was laughing at me, evilly planning exactly where any procreation would take place. The middle of the mattress? Maybe the bottom? I glared at the bed then went into the walk-in closet to change into some pyjamas. Getting into bed while knowing Matt would soon be up caused a ball of tension the size of a boulder to settle in my gut. Great, just great. By the time he came to bed my nerves were shot to hell. I squinted at him as he strode into the closet to change. When he came back out in nothing more than silkbottoms, I pretended to be asleep.

Matt turned off all the lights and got into the bed with me. There was space between us, no more than a couple of feet, but it felt like much more. The stiffness of my body was uncomfortable, lying perfectly still was a chore and I cursed sleep for eluding me. After what may have been an hour I couldn’t bear it anymore.

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