Page 15

2007

Sarah stepped into the liquid-like warmth of late-September sunshine. She couldn’t stop smiling. Her body cast an elongated shadow that stretched to the edge of the sidewalk and dropped off the curb. Her shadow-self rested its hands on its stomach.

A squeal of brakes grabbed her attention as the faithful number 73 bus lumbered to a stop, sloshing up some leftover puddle from an earlier rainfall and erasing her shadow. A waft of diesel and wet pavement caught Sarah’s stomach by surprise.

On the bus, smells crowded around her as she negotiated through bodies: a sickly vanilla perfume, the remnants of failed deodorant, onions on someone’s breath. She dove forward when a seat opened near the rear door with its promise of fresh air. An older woman already sat primly on the double bench, her deep-lined face like overfolded paper. Sarah smiled at her and earned a friendly nod in reply. Sarah’s hand moved again to her stomach as she thought about the conversation to come. In her mind’s eye, Matt waited at the corner table in the small Thai restaurant where he had proposed. The family-run place was only slightly more than a hole-in-the-wall with dim lighting and cheap tourist posters, but the delicate mango salad and coconut-infused panang chicken made up for the decor.

“He’s a lucky man,” the woman beside Sarah said.

“Sorry?” Sarah opened her eyes, bemused after being lost in her imaginings.

“Whoever you’re humming about. He must be a lucky guy.”

“Was I humming? Oh my God, I hadn’t noticed. I’m so sorry.” Sarah felt her cheeks redden.

“Oh, no need to apologize, dear. It’s nice to see a happy young person these days. Seems most of you spend your time complaining about everything. It baffles me. Try making it to my age, then tell me if it’s so rough.” The woman had an Irish lilt to her voice and a gravelly laugh that retained its musicality. Sarah laughed along.

The bus slowed to a stop in front of a playground where a group of children darted around a play structure like sparrows flocking in a bush. Both women watched.

“That’s why I’m humming,” Sarah said, almost to herself.

“What’s that, dear?”

Sarah patted her belly. “That’s why I’m humming.” She cocked her chin toward the playground.

“Ah, that’s wonderful, dear,” the woman said after a beat. A crinkled hand squeezed Sarah’s, both resting against Sarah’s belly. “Does your young man know yet?”

Sarah smiled dreamily. “Not yet. I’m on my way to tell him now. We’re meeting at our favorite restaurant.”

“Oh, lovely, that is. Have you been trying for a while?”

The question, though obtrusive, seemed natural to Sarah. Secrets of womanhood shared from generation to generation—in kitchens and farmsteads—brought into the modern world on a city bus.

“Not at all. We just got married, actually. Last month. It’s a complete surprise, but I can’t wait to tell him.”

The woman patted Sarah’s hand. Sarah straightened.

“Ah, child. In my experience, it’s rarely news that men take well unexpectedly.”

“Not Matt.” Sarah pulled her hand out from under the weathered palm. “He’s going to be as excited as I am.”

“I’m sure you’re right, dear. Just an old woman’s memories.” She placed the rejected hand back in her own lap. “Well, this is my stop.”

Sarah stepped into the aisle, and the woman slid out of the seat.

“Lovely meeting you, dear. Congratulations to you and your young man.”

Sarah nodded, and though politeness dictated a smile, she withheld it. She watched the crooked body descend the bus stairs and step onto the sidewalk. She sat back down and kept her eyes focused ahead as the bus pulled away.

Though Sarah tried to dismiss them, the old woman’s words planted themselves like weeds nourished by her doubts. What if Matt didn’t want kids? They’d never discussed it, not seriously. And she was taking birth control. Worry nagged at her as she waited on the sidewalk in front of the restaurant. After-work crowds filled the trendy neighborhood. Chattering couples left trails of laughter as they passed. It wasn’t the timing they expected, but she knew Matt would be excited. He wants children. He must. Sarah paced. There was so much they hadn’t explored in their rush to get married.

A giggle caught Sarah’s attention. Across the street, a couple strolled down the sidewalk; between them, a little girl squealed with delight as they swung her forward, her feet hanging in the air for a couple of seconds before she settled back to earth. All three grinned with abandon. Sarah believed in signs. She believed that the universe could speak in gestures and small graces.

When she saw Matt cross paths with the happy family, she faced down the unsaid in their relationship. He looked good. Tapered black jeans and a gray fitted T-shirt snuggled against his muscled frame. His clothes, she knew, were chosen with care to look casual, and she fell for it every time. At the sight of him, her memory of the kindly old woman’s face morphed into that of a hag, the encounter easily dismissed as a humorous story. When Matt reached her, she gave him a lingering kiss.

“Well, that’s a greeting,” he said.

“Just happy to see my husband.” She took his hand in hers, weaving their fingers together.

They stepped into the restaurant, and Sarah bathed herself in luscious smells. By the time they were seated, the old woman was forgotten, like a fleeting dream whose power waned the further you moved away from sleep. They settled into a corner table, and Matt talked about his day, the deadlines and the dreariness of it. Sarah assumed a listening position, though her mind drifted over thoughts of the child. Their child.

“Should we get a bottle of wine?” Matt asked.

Sarah pondered how to answer. “Best not.”

Matt looked up from his menu, cocked an eyebrow. “Tired?”

“Something like that.” She glanced at a passing waiter, unable to look at Matt as the words started. “I’m pregnant.” She turned to face him on the final consonant. What she saw would stay with her for the rest of her life.

For just a blink, she thought she saw disappointment on his face, but it was hard to read in the soft lighting of the restaurant. It was a moment, an unreliable beat of a heart, so fleeting she wondered if she’d imagined it: a trick of the light, a reflection of the table candle in his eyes. And yet the memory would echo into her future.

On the pull of her next breath, it was gone, and Sarah saw her husband’s face again, friendly and relaxed but unreadable.

“Really?”

Sarah nodded, hesitant to trust her eyes.

“Already? I mean, it’s only been—I mean, how did it happen?”

“Well, the sperm fertilizes the egg, and then—”

“Ha ha. You know what I mean.”

“I’m as surprised as you. Sometimes the buggers just get through all the walls.”

An undecipherable silence fell. Sarah’s muscles, vibrating earlier, went taut. Her heart rabbited against her ribs. Matt stayed quiet. His eyes danced around, his senses trying to slot new information into reality. She scrutinized his body: a rise in the shoulders, a minute tilt of the head, a shimmy across the chest from a foot bobbing under the table. None of it translatable.

“Huh” was what finally came out before his expression changed at last. A tentative smile crept out as the waiter arrived to take their drink order.

“We’re having a baby,” Matt said, still looking at Sarah. “I’ll have a glass of your best red wine, and she’ll have a ... mango lassi?”

Sarah could only nod.

“Sorry, sir.” The waiter shook his head with practiced patience. “We only have one house red, sir.” Matt and Sarah laughed as the waiter shuffled away, visibly annoyed to not be in on the joke.

After their sauce-streaked plates had been taken away, Sarah felt a satiation that went beyond food. They talked about children and parents and all the mistakes they would never make. A wine stain traced the inner edge of Matt’s lips. Sarah watched it, hypnotized as it appeared and disappeared while he told tales of his past and their future. They nursed strong cups of a fragrant chai while the specter of the unsaid seeped away with the steam.

As had become their habit, Matt paid the check while Sarah slipped into the washroom before meeting him outside. Walking away, Sarah didn’t see what other diners might have glimpsed: a young man, elbows on the table, the weight of his head dropped into his steepled hands. Though his eyes were veiled, he looked for all the world like a picture of defeat and despair.