Alonda's New Baby

So Alonda had her baby. At home. With a rocking midwife. She is a tiny thing and as yet un-named. Her dad was still stunned and speechless when I left, unable to say yes or no to the names he and Alonda were still undecided on. He laid by Alonda's side as the baby nursed and gripped his finger. I missed the birth but she said it was fairly brutal but not that bad. She was happy and smiling, though, while her boyfriend still looked dazed. It felt strange trying to reassure him that both she and the baby were fine. I said to him Call me if ya'll need anything and Get some sleep and Have you eaten? and Really, nothing's broken and I'll send Brian around to talk with you. As he hugged me goodbye a sob escaped his throat and his hands clutched spasmodically at my back.

Of course as soon as I got home Alonda called me cracking up. She said girl I think he cried harder than I did, it really wasn't that bad. I thought you said having a baby was hard! I laughed along with her and did not mention her bloodshot eyes, one eye completely red-rimmed with blood sunk in the white part from all the pressure. I did not mention her split and still-bloodied lips from all the biting she had done during labor. I did not mention talking with her midwife who told me it was touch and go there for a minute, she thought she'd have to call for an ambulance. I did not mention that my own fear and labor flashbacks kept me away from her side, her one and only friend who approved of her having a home birth. I was just happy she had made it through, this first-time mother friend of mine.

Her baby had the huge unfocused eyes that all newborns have, kinda grey but I think they will settle into the deep brown that Alonda's eyes are. And what beautiful hair! She has a head full of thick black curly hair and skin the color of autumn leaves. I swear she looked at me, really looked at me, and gave me a toothless grin. Her look said I know all about you and I know why you kept your cell phone off and I know everything but I still forgive you because now you're here.

At least that's what I hoped her look said.

I tried to apologize to Alonda but she brushed my apology and guilt aside. It's ok, I know you would have probably been crying and flashbacking and acting the fool and no real help at all. I knew you were rooting for me just as hard at home as you would have had you been here. I wanted her to be mad at me. I felt so ashamed. I did not think I would have reacted so, I did not think I was still that afraid. When her boyfriend called me telling me she was starting labor I said ok and I'll be there soon. Then gripped by fear and terror and memories of blood and sharpness and blinding light in my head and splitting and pain, so much pain, I turned off my cell phone and busied myself with other things.

When her mom called my house phone to fuss and tell me to 'make' her go to a hospital, I turned off the ringer. My daughter needed to go somewhere so I busied myself shuttling her back and forth, then the boys needed stuff and I busied myself with them. I kept telling myself I would run to Alonda's in a minute. I said nothing to Brian because I knew he'd say oh wow, well go ahead and go be with your friend, I'll take care of the kids. I knew he'd either call off from his Saturday job or get his mom to watch the kids while I went to Alonda's.

At her house I cleaned up the kitchen and bathroom and made some casseroles and quarts of herbal iced tea, which Alonda loves. I did a couple of loads of laundry. I organized all the baby's things. I made calls to her family and other friends. I told my friend I loved her and I would come by every other day to help out for awhile. I held her baby, who snuggled right into me as if she were my own. I felt my breasts begin to fill up, nearly 7 years after my own last baby, and I started to cry.

Hanging Out Instead of Working

Earlier in the week Brian took the kids out to this Island with his folks, they were gone all day until around 10 at night. I had planned to get so much work done while they were gone! I got practically nothing done. My friends Fat Mike, Amy, and Shannon stopped by and we just hung out laughing and shooting the shit up on my balcony, it was so much fun. Fat Mike has an indie music production company and all kinds of investors, he's going to see if he can't get me some investment money for my biz. That'd be cool, long as said investors don't try to run things. Shannon is so cool, it's been so long since I've really seen her. She had never met either Amy or Fat Mike so it was fun to see them meet and get to liking each other. I had so much fun, I like having people over. But dammit if I didn't have stuff to do!

The Man I Live With, Part 4

The man I live with is very intense. He is present in all that he does and takes my attention when we are together. When we are together I feel our edges blend. At times this frightens me so I withdraw to nurture my identity. For this reason he is the pursuer in this relationship. And he pursues me relentlessly.

There is sex and there is making love. When we love the man I live with holds me in his arms and watches me with his eyes and begins his moves. At times he likes to be aloof, tuning my body like a violinist preparing for a concert. The man I live with is very skillful. I feel like a car under the hands of a master mechanic. He is not satisfied until he has felt me clench over and over again, until I have have become dazed from his tongue. Then he continues the journey inside my body.

At times he lies back and is still, allowing me to touch and kiss all his tender spots, allowing me to stroke his body gently until he trembles. The man I live with does not like to be vulnerable, so I treasure these times as rare gifts. At the height of his ecstasy his pupils dilate, making him look drugged and spacey.

In the night when I can't sleep sometimes I roam about the house and yard. Or I'll get on the computer. Sometimes the man I live with comes and sits up with me. Sometimes we sit on the balcony together and watch the stars. Sometimes he'll stand beside me when I'm on the computer and take my wrist and say, Come to bed. Once there he holds me tight, all night long.

My Friend Keeps Trying to Convert Me

My friend Valerie stopped by today. She is a Jehovah's Witness. I don't mind that, I have friends from various religions or theological beliefs. I even used to read the bible with her. I may be agnostic but the bible is an interesting read, it has some good points. I think that there are good rules for conducting your life in the bible. But there is some wacky stuff in it too.

I do respect that people have different beliefs and interpretations of the bible. Fine, just don't try to shove your beliefs down my throat. I told Valerie months ago that I didn't want to hear any more about Jehovah's Witnesses. I do not agree with their beliefs on blood transfusions because when my son Scott was born both he and I needed transfusions. I do not agree with their practice of 'shunning' or disfellowshipping people, I think that is cruel psychological torture.

So anyway Valerie had the nerve to stop by with one of her other friends, who is also a Jehovah's Witness. I've met this woman before, she seemed cool. But after Valerie tried to give me a copy of The Watchtower, the JW magazine, and I politely declined, this woman asked me what my deal was. I told I still read the bible but I was just not interested in learning anymore about the Jehovah's Witness religion. She asked me why, and I told her my reasons. Then she starts going off about how it's in the bible and it's God's word and all, and I'm like fine but I'm not going to do it. She keeps pushing the issue so finally I say, I understand, thanks for stopping by, and show them the door.

I feel bad because Valerie is really nice and is a good person. I enjoyed hanging out with her. I'm going to call her later and ask her if she is allowed to socialize with me or will she be shunned for hanging out with me unless she spends the time trying to convert me. If so, that's too bad.

The Man I Live With, Part 3

The man I live with has pale skin that does not tan well. At the first sign of spring he walks around topless, his skin pale as the belly of some deep underwater fish. His absence of color makes him look anemic sometimes. When I trace his green veins traveling acoss his body, he says, God, I can't wait to get some sun.

Months go by. Finally summer bursts upon us and his skin begins to brown. Sometimes the man I live with will 'forget' to use sun block and his back and arms sport an angry rash-like surface, red as a lobster. When his skin peels it's like crepe paper flaking on the bed. After this his skin turns a light brown, and he looks like a glowing golden boy. His light brown hair takes on a bronze sheen, and you can no longer see all his veins. People stare at him and ask him out a lot in the summer. Ah, vanity, thy name is Brian. For this summer color the man I live with will burn. And burn again, until his skin surrenders.

The man I live with has a naturally high body temperature. After a day of sun it seems he is even hotter. He's like a glowing ember in the night, charged like a battery from the sun. He kicks our light comforter to the floor in his sleep. When we spoon he feels like a hot towel fresh from the dryer.