Greener Grass

WARNING: THIS STORY CONTAINS STRONG SWEARING FROM THE OUTSET. PLEASE SCROLL DOWN IF YOU WISH TO READ ON...

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An excerpt of GREENER GRASS

Two women. Two Lives.

"You never change things by fighting the existing reality. To change something, build a new model that makes the existing model obsolete."

R. Buckminster Fuller

LARA

‘Fuck, fuck, fuck.’ I stared silently at the bright ceiling lights above, the people in the room with me oblivious to my thoughts.

KATE

‘FUUUUUUUUUUUCCCCCCCK.’

Everyone knew what I was thinking.

LARA

‘Do you believe in God?’

I looked up at the anaesthetist, barely aware of the needle piercing my skin as the nurse inserted a cannula into the back of my hand.

‘I don’t think, I mean, I’m not sure. I just….’

‘Lie back please.’ The nurse put her hand gently on my shoulder as she and the doctor exchanged looks. This was the third time they’d seen me. My third attempt to go through with a decision I was still not ready to make. But I’d run out of time. I’d run out of opportunities to say ‘no, not yet, I don’t think I want this.’ Twelve weeks to decide, and a lifetime of consequences.

‘Please put your legs in here.’ The nurse spoke gently. Tenderly she scooped my left leg up into the stirrup. ‘Now the other one please. That’s it.’

I looked down at my right leg poking out from the bottom of my clinical gown and obediently, shakily, lifted it into the other stirrup without removing my hands from my abdomen, where life was growing. My heart throbbed in my neck, my shoulders hunched, fear pressed down icily on my chest. I was too afraid to cry – too afraid of the decision I was making, the regret I might carry for the rest of my life and the judgement that might be waiting for me.

I wanted to stretch out this sliver of time, not yet having to deal with what was to come, peaceful and still, with life growing inside. Still not having crossed over into something I couldn’t change.

But it was him or a baby, so he said.

The doctor looked over his half moon glasses and nodded at the anaesthetist whose tall impartial solid figure with his fuzzy head of hair moved in closer. I could smell the fabric softener on his pristine white coat.

I was terrified. Terrified of where I was, of how I’d got here, of what I was doing, of the life I would live after this decision was carried out, fear of the impact it would have on my family if I didn’t carry it out.

It was Sandro or the baby… Sandro or the baby…

My eyes closing.

A sharp intake of breath.

‘I’m not… ‘

Then nothing. Nothing.

Nothing.

KATY

FUUUUUUCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCK.

‘Just seriously shut the fuck up Kenny.’

‘OK, sorry love, you’re doing a great job.’

I just wanted the baby OUT. I wanted the pain to go away. Jesus Christ they don’t give you any idea just how fucking fucking painful it is. Fuck.

I inhaled deeply. Deeply deeply. A great slug of gas and air. Ah, better. Better. FUCK, NO, WORSE.

‘I need something else, please give me something else. Oh God oh God oh God.’

The midwife squeezed my forearm encouragingly.

‘Come on Katy you’re doing a brilliant job. Now get ready to push really hard again. That’s it, come on love, good girl.’

The midwife looked calm, another day at the office for her. She was clean, crisp and cool, no beads of sweat, no blood vessels pushing against her temples. No pain.

Kenny looked unsure – unsure of me, unsure of the baby so nearly here, unsure of what to do. He would come in closer, reach for my hand, put his palm on my forehead but it just irritated me. His cigarette breath so close, his hot hand on my already sweaty forehead.

‘Please Kenny, just stop touching me.’

One of the nurses gave him a reassuring pat on the arm. He looked down at the ground, then up at me and smiled. A smile seeking reassurance or perhaps love. I didn’t know or particularly care, I just wanted to get this baby out.

The midwife looked at me, ‘OK Katy love, concentrate, one last push, come on Katy, that’s it, good girl.’

I bore down. Down down down. I felt anger as I pushed and pushed and pushed. Rage, sheer rage at the pain. Get out get out GET OUT.

Then a cry. A small vulnerable whimper.

Thank God.

Thank God.

TO BE CONTINUED... IF ANYONE WANTS TO READ ON?! FEEDBACK GREATLY APPRECIATED...