Secrets and Surprises

Things remain unspoken. There is a difference between a secret and a surprise. I was always surprised. It was always a secret.

Our house was pleasant enough, three storeys high and practically a new build. The kitchen was huge, maybe 30 foot long, plenty of space for a sofa, dining table, baby paraphernalia, etc. On the second floor was the lounge, with grey carpet and pink walls, and our bedroom, with green carpet and blue walls. We swapped them round. I forget why. On the top floor the baby's room, with pink carpet and beige walls. The bathroom was serviceable. A small room at the back was meant to be Matt's study.

We had moved from a smaller place. Our stuff was spread out. There was a wonderful sense of sparse reality. Ornaments had space to breathe. Clutter seemed stringy. It was possible to move from room to room without falling over anything.

I got a job. The baby was enrolled at nursery. Matt was enrolled at college. I worked for an estate agents and surveyors as a secretary. It was a small company. Much of the time I was left on my own. The offices were not near any major social areas. I had no-one to talk to and nowhere to go at lunchtimes. I was bored.

I went to work and I came home. I typed and then I tidied and then I cooked. Television was a constant companion. I watched other peoples' lives dance about on the screen in front of me. Their ways did not match with my ways. They had things I did not have. They enjoyed things I could not afford.

Matt read and studied. He liked college. He went there even when he did not have lectures. A whole world was opening up in front of him. He thought about things. I did things. Money was not too bad. It did not even occur to us that we could or should go on holiday. That was simply out of our reach. We went to an auction once, to buy a television. We looked at all the sets. We had never been or bid before. I was too shy. I whispered to Matt “I don't mind which one we get, except I don't want the one with the teak surround”. We came away with the one with the teak surround. Things like that happened to us.

Our neighbours were friendly enough. Fiona and Giles were a laugh. They had two children, one the same age as our's and one two years older. I spent a lot of time with Fiona. There never seemed to be anything to do, so we would sit in each other's kitchens, drinking coffee.

She was nice. A big girl, a bit older than me. She was always happy, except for when she was not. She had experience as a mother, where I was lacking. Our children played together, which was a godsend, because I found it difficult to know what to say, minute by minute, hour after hour, to a baby, but they amused each other.

There was nowhere to go. The local park was not safe. One day I took the baby to play on the swings. A man, who seemed to high on glue or something, came up to me. He was swinging his arms around his head and shouting “Look at me, I'm a helicopter”. He was not a helicopter. He wanted me to agree with him but I could not. He kept coming closer. There was no-one else around. I gathered my baby up and ran away.

Shopping took up a large portion of my time. They do not build supermarkets in poor areas. I was forever wandering up the road to buy pork belly draft or vegetables. I could barely cook. Every day I was meant to produce dinner. Matt would eat anything. Sometimes he had to. Mother cooked all the baby's food. She gave me little, plastic containers, seven to last a whole week. I kept them in the freezer, defrosting each one as I needed. I did not even know what they contained. The child ate them though. I assumed mother was better at this than me.

We talked about having another baby. I wanted something else to do with my time. If I had two children I would not have to go and work in the horrible estate agents, where the men shouted at me every time I made a mistake. I did not want to be a secretary. I was lonely, so lonely. I had forgotten how to read, so there was nowhere for me to escape to. I was stuck in that office, staring at the computer screen. They threw my work back at me. It was difficult to get all the comments to fit into the little boxes. When they talked into their dictaphones they muttered. Sometimes I could not hear what they were saying.

I felt sick. I went into the toilet. There were three cubicles, but only three of us that worked in the building. Why were there so many toilets? I looked at myself in the mirror. My face was pale. I had a strange vest and suspender outfit on. The vest was cut in such a way that it arched up revealing my belly. I thought I was getting fat. I missed lunch again. I felt even sicker. After two weeks of strict dieting my belly was beginning to stick out, like an Ethiopian. I laid down. I could not go to work. The nausea washed over me constantly. I dare not lift my head off the pillow. The doctor was called. It took him two minutes to diagnose my illness. I was pregnant.

“So?” Matt asked.
“I'm fucking pregnant.”

It was not like the first time. Matt did not run to my side and smother me in kisses. Instead, he stared at me.

“How did that happen?”
I rolled my eyes. “It only takes one time.”

We had been using contraception, except for that one Sunday afternoon, when the baby was asleep, and we rolled into each other.

I thought maybe I could be happy about this. Matt was stunned. He had just started university. We talked about a termination and decided that it was not a possibility. For one reason and another I could not throw his baby away. We announced it to family and friends. It seemed reasonable. There would be two years between our children. Nicely planned. It is normal. This is how it works.

Every day I was sick. I felt tired. The pregnancy progressed. The due date was confirmed. I worried, because when I looked at our daughter I could not understand how I could love another child as much. Everything, she had everything from me. Her little face, fat cheeked and with sticky out ears. I saw that face at night before I went to sleep. Her eyes were so big and so blue. When she clapped her hands sometimes she would miss. I sang to her. She used to crawl up my body and go to sleep with her head in my neck. Her body was always warm. Her feet were still dimpled. She was just beginning to walk.

Matt sat his first year exams. The due date came and went. I was taken into hospital again, to be induced again. My babies did not seem to want to leave my body. It was summer and very hot. We had no money. That is not true. We had 37 pence. Not even enough to catch the bus. We walked along the main road, me wearing a red dress, him carrying my case. He left me in hospital. I did not want him to go. I was scared. I wanted my other baby. She had been taken to mothers.

The next day they brought the baby out of me. They had not listened to what I had been saying for the last six weeks. He felt too big. He got stuck. The midwives still were not listening to me. I could not put my legs to my chest. It made my body shake. I looked at Matt. I could not speak. I tried to tell him with my eyes. My whole body was shaking. He was as cool as a cucumber, one that has been left in the salad crisper in the fridge. He shouted. Bells rang. A doctor arrived. They had to dislocate the baby's shoulder to get him out. They put their hands right inside me and did that, then dragged him free. Silence.

Silence.

I propped myself up on my elbows. Matt was watching them poke and prod the child. He was placed under a grill. A strong light was shone in his face.

Silence.

Matt came back to me and got hold of my hand. I thought there was something wrong. Last time I had been given baby, straight away. She had slithered up my belly and onto my breast. This time they took the baby.

A few coughs. Splutter, splutter. And then a cry, big and throaty, angry. They held him upside down by the ankles and he wailed. A nurse wrapped him in an open weave blanket. It was white. She brought him to me. I held open my arms. The tightly bound bundle was passed over. He was like a bullet slug. I looked down at him. There was something wrong with his face. It was black, all over one side.

“What's wrong with his face?”
“It's a birthmark.”

I looked again. The whole of the right side was a deep purple. Matt peeled down the blanket.

“And now we've got to get you stitched.”

The nurse threaded the needle. I was surprised to see it looked like a fish hook. She asked me to place my feet in the rests.

“OWWWWWWW!”
“Stay still dear.”
“It hurts.”
“Do you have a flannel,” she said, addressing the question towards Matt. He nodded. “Be a love, roll it up and stick it in her mouth. Not much point giving you an anaesthetic. Just bite down on the cloth.”

The pain was excruciating. Burning stabs shot through my fragile skin, that they had ripped. I told them he was too big. Matt took the baby. I stretched my head back, until my neck arched off the bed. A coolness came over me. The air made my sweat cold. When she had finished, and Matt gave me the baby back, he was all pink and his birthmark was bright red. I did not like it. He did not look right. He reminded me of a white puppy with a big, black patch over its eye. He screamed. I handed him back to Matt and asked if he could be kept in the nursery that night.

I slept. When I woke up I thought maybe I had imagined the mark on my son's face. I went to look for him in the nursery. I recognised him instantly. There was another woman in there. She had her back to me. I ignored my baby for a minute and went up to look at hers. He was wrapped tight, his little head poking out of the top of his swaddles. His nose was funny, all squashed flat. His lips was split in two and curled upwards. The woman turned and looked at me. “Cleft Palette,” she said through gritted teeth.
“Oh,” I said back. She had a twisty smile. I went and picked up Jordan and brought him over to her. I showed her. She looked down. “Birthmark,” I said. She began to cry. I did not know what to do. I put my baby back down and wandered off into the smoking room. I wanted Matt to come and rescue me. I thought perhaps I needed a cup of tea. I certainly could have done with a shower. The pad between my legs was soaked.

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