Some random uncle was droning on into a microphone under the noonday sun. Molly shook her head wondering what level of stamina the old man had. She was under a tent and still felt like she was getting baked. Silas caressed the inside of her right hand, drawing her attention. He kept at it until her pulse was steadily climbing. She looked up at him, squinting, trying to figure out his game. She wasn’t prepared for the wink, the accompanying megawatt smile, and couldn’t fight her smile breaking out to meet his. God, she was never ready, she thought, glancing away and far too close to giggling like a schoolgirl for her liking.
With that little wink, she was back in their living room the previous night, dancing to their classic love song playlist, his hand low on her back, rubbing gentle circles. He knew she was nervous about the event the following day. They were going to be the centre of attention. She hated that. At their traditional ‘wedding ceremony.’ She hated that even more. Not so much the solemnizing of their union, but more all the customs that came with it. All the expectations placed on her as a woman.
He rubbed her back. “I promise, I told them none of the woman serving man bits and they said ‘okay.’”
“What does okay mean here? Like, they understand, or they’ll make sure everything is the way we want it?”
“It means none of the stuff on our don’t-list will happen. I promise.” He bent down and kissed her forehead. “Just one day and then we’re back to this, you and me. Dancing. Stay here, focus on this.”
Silas lifted her hand and kissed it, bringing her back to the present. He shook his head playfully, judging her like he knew where her mind had wandered off to. She rolled her eyes and feigned interest in what his Great Aunt was doing at the centre of the field next to the bed they’d soon be gifted.
Her jaw dropped. She turned to Silas who looked as shocked as she was. He squeezed her hand in his.
Why was his great-aunt asking for a basin with water and a towel to be brought?
Why was she calling them?
They had specifically asked not to have any traditions that had her explicitly serving him. Now his aunt wanted Molly to wash Silas’ feet and show everyone how she was going to take care of him. Show everyone what type of wife she was going to be.
Molly stayed seated, heart racing, palms sweating, engulfed in disbelief. Everyone turned to them expectantly.
“Hey,” Silas said, pulling her hand to his. He leaned in to whisper in her ear, “Do you trust me?”
She met his eyes, took a deep breath, and nodded.
His playful smile beamed on her, then got on his feet, holding his hand out to her, like they were approaching the dancefloor in some medieval ball.
She took his hand in hers and let him lead her to his Great Aunt and the centrepiece bed.
The basin and water arrived just as they did. She looked at it as one would a venomous snake. To her mind, what it represented was no less fatal.
Neither her parents nor his made any effort to interrupt, even though they were aware of the conditions Molly and Silas had set for the ceremony. The depth of betrayal she felt was unlike anything she’d ever experienced.
His Great Aunt was going on about Molly now showing them all how she was going to take care of Silas. Silas helped her sit on the bed, then winked at her, throwing her completely off guard. Why was he not taking this seriously? He then reached for the basin and the towel. He hung the towel over his shoulder and then knelt before her.
All the murmuring stopped. He reached for her feet and started untying her strappy sandals, one at a time. His hands were so gentle she felt suddenly precious.
She was as frozen as everyone else appeared to be.
He wrung the washcloth in the basin, then proceeded to clean her dry feet, massaging her as he washed. When he was done, he wiped her feet with the towel and then kissed her. She closed her eyes, surprised to feel the tears trickle down her cheeks. She couldn’t open her eyes as the tears kept coming.
He strapped her sandals back on and then she found herself engulfed in his tight embrace.
Like they were all released from a spell all at once, the murmuring began. The intensity of the voices whispering, arguing, and yelling steadily rising.
They were in trouble now, Molly thought, burrowing in the crook of his neck for a few stolen seconds.
Image from https://tinyurl.com/2xpaktet
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Silas kissed Molly’s cheek, then stood in front of her as if to protect her with his body.
An old man was already taking the microphone, trying to address the rowdy audience. Silas’s mother tongue was spotty, and the old man had a heavy lisp to boot so he didn’t get everything, but he got enough to know the old man wasn’t happy.
He considered it spitting in the face of tradition. He said Silas was no longer a man, Molly had emasculated him and made him a woman. He wondered if they were both women getting married or if Molly was now the man.
People intermittently yelled in agreement and Silas tightened his hold on Molly’s hand. They’d likely have to leave if people were as upset as they sounded and looked. One of Silas’s cousins was making his way to the old man and the microphone. Molly leaned in close to Silas. She was afraid, which meant they were leaving.
He turned towards the house. Just as they were making their escape, the young man announced that they’d found out that Molly had allegedly had a secret abortion. He said they’d not disclosed it because both families had insisted that it couldn’t be true, she was a good girl. Clearly, she wasn’t. He told the crowd he deeply regretted not telling them. He said his only mistake was assuming that it was unsubstantiated, said by someone untrustworthy, who meant her harm. Clearly, he’d been wrong, he told them.
The crowd murmured their agreement.
Silas quickened his pace. He saw his mother and his sister Molly behind him and some aunts too. He walked right to his room and closed the door behind them. His mother knocked on the door.
“Silas, open this door.”
She was pissed.
He turned to Molly and looked her up and down as if he needed to confirm that she was physically alright. She nodded, and he opened the door.
“What is wrong with you?” His mother yelled.
“You had an abortion?” Molly’s mother bellowed.
Silas closed the door behind them, locking out their curious aunts and his sister.
“We told you we were not going to do that.” He answered his mother.
“Not everything is about you. You can’t just do one small thing? You think you’re better than our traditions?”
“No, I don’t. But we told you we couldn’t do that.”
“Yet, you washed her legs.”
“It’s different. You know that. That’s why everyone is losing their goddamned mind.”
His mother was silent, staring at him like she wished she could beat him like she used to when he was a child. “I don’t know what we ever did to deserve this level of disrespect from you.” She said, voice low, dripping with pain.
Silas stood mute.
“I do not care about what you believe. Did you have an abortion or not?” Molly’s mother hollered, drawing Silas’s attention to the other conversation happening.
“Okay. I had an abortion. I was in university, and I got pregnant.” Molly said, throwing her arms up in defeat, and defiance.
Her mother stared at her stunned. “I’m ashamed to be your mother.”
Then she turned and left. His mother followed.
They stood in silence, his eyes on her, hers staring everywhere but at him. He walked up to her and wrapped her in a hug.
**************************************************************************
“Why didn’t you tell me?” He asked, finally breaking the silence but maintaining the embrace.
She stepped away from his embrace and sat on the bed, all the energy draining out of her. She shook her head. “I can’t talk about that.”
“Even with me? We’ve talked about abortion a million times, you know I support it.”
“What part of I can’t talk about that right now are you not getting?” she spit out.
Now they were fighting too. “Fuck,” she cussed.
There was a knock on the door, and then his mother walked in. “I hope you’re happy now. The church has said they’re not going to bless the union if she had an abortion. You can go. It’s what you wanted all along. You didn’t even want to do this and instead of just saying no, you decided to embarrass all of us.”
“Mom, that’s not-” he started.
“Pack your things and go.” She said, cutting him off and leaving.
They packed their things in silence and in under five minutes were in the car they’d borrowed from a mutual friend. Just as they were pulling out of the private parking lot, his sister, Daisy, knocked on the passenger side window.
“Can I join? I’m persona non-grata here, too.”
“Yeah,” Molly said, and Daisy jumped in.
“I told Mom I had an abortion.” She announced before she’d even secured her seatbelt.
“What?”
“You what?”
Silas and Molly screeched out in unison.
“I told Mom I had an abortion,” she repeated as if that clarified anything.
“Were you just saying that because of me?” Molly asked.
“Please, you think you were the only one getting busy like that?” She teased, laughing.
Molly shook her head. She hadn’t been in the streets like that, not that there was anything wrong with that. She couldn’t go down that road.
Molly turned to look at Daisy. “What did you say?”
“I just said you’re not the only one who’s had an abortion.”
Molly’s eyes bugged out again. “What did she say?”
“Nothing. Though she looked like she wanted to beat me up. The only thing that saved my ass was everything was running on overdrive inside her head, leading to a system-wide malfunction.” Daisy imitated a malfunctioning robot and Molly couldn’t help smiling.
“When did you have an abortion, and where?” Silas asked.
Molly turned to look at him and their eyes met before they both looked away.
“Last year.”
“With Bobby?” Silas asked, referring to her boyfriend.
“Yeah. I found out I was pregnant, I freaked out and told him. I made him book the appointment at a legit place and pay for it because obviously, it was his sperm, his fault. I went in and because it was early enough took some pills, went home to round-the-clock care from Bobby, some bleeding, and voila you girl’s still child-free.” She smiled as she finished.
Molly couldn’t believe the ease with which Daisy talked about it. Even more, she couldn’t believe how simple, how uncomplicated and how easy she made it seem. She held her breath, afraid Daisy would ask her to tell her story, but she didn’t.
She just kept up a steady stream of commentary about the event, how she supported their stance against sexist customs, how hilarious all the outrage was, how she couldn’t wait until it was her turn to buck tradition. She said they would go down as legends. Everyone who’d missed it would cuss their fate till the day they died.
By the time she was running out of steam, they were at the hotel they were going to spend the night at.
***********************************************************************************
Silas had booked their room in advance. He had envisioned it as a romantic honeymoon-esque evening of recharging after a draining ceremony. They couldn’t be further from a honeymoon. At least he’d gotten Daisy a separate room, otherwise this evening would have been hell.
He opened the door and followed Molly in. “You can take the shower first. I’ll go next.”
She nodded and started walking towards the bathroom.
He grabbed her hand before he even knew he intended to do it. “I’m sorry for making the abortion thing about me. Your body is yours to do with whatever you please. You don’t owe me or anyone else an explanation. You don’t have to tell me, now or ever. If you ever want to though, I’m here for you, whenever that is, even if it’s never. Okay?”
She nodded, “Okay.”
He grunted, running his hands through his hair. “I’m also sorry about the rest of it. I didn’t think that was how it would play out. I swear I thought everyone was just going to call me a simp, a weak man and keep it moving. I didn’t know I would start literal skirmishes.”
She smiled and, though it was tiny, it warmed him up.
“I know. No one could have anticipated this. I’ll make it quick.” She said, turning away and stepping into the bathroom.
She closed the bathroom door, and somehow it felt like a rejection of him. If things had gone according to plan, he’d have been in there with her. He’d booked a room with a big shower because he’d wanted to share it with her.
Here he was alone, and there she was wet and dealing with all the hurtful things that were said to her. Everything that had been unearthed today. He’d stolen glances of Molly as Daisy was telling her abortion story and he just knew her story was nowhere near as sanguine. He wanted to know what had happened, but he’d meant, if she wasn’t ready, he’d wait, even if it never happened. He’d heard some horrific abortion stories, and he understood if she wasn’t ready to talk.
She wasn’t the most emotional and vulnerable even at the best of times, no way this one would come easy for her. He loved her, though and that would be enough.
Silas sat on the edge of the bed, taking off his shoes, and listening to the shower. His eyes were glued to the bathroom door when she opened it, and a cloud of heat followed her into the room. She was clad in the bulky white robes hotels favoured, looking like everything he wanted in his future.
He smiled, shaking his head. “I hope I look that good when I’m done.”
“Rush, and if I’m awake, I’ll tell you how good you look.”
*************************************************************************************
Molly stopped him with a touch to his arm, then kissed his bearded cheek as he passed her. Then she was off to the bed, and he was rushing into the bathroom.
In less than five minutes, he was out of the shower, and they were sliding into their usual sides of the bed. He switched off the lights. She moved close to him, and he shifted to his side, his arm going around her.
“How bad are the endless thought loops on a scale of 1 to 10?” he asked.
“17,” she answered, “But I’m good.”
“You?”
“A cool manageable 12.”
“We’re handling this crisis fantastically,” she said, turning to face him.
“I want to tell you,” she whispered, sitting up, feeling safe in the darkness.
“Okay,” he said, sitting up next to her. “But I swear, Baby, no pressure. You don’t have to.”
She nodded. “I know.”
He moved behind her, his back to the bed rest, then positioned her so that she was leaning on him. “You good?”
“Perfect,” she answered, loving the feel of his lean, hairy chest.
She leaned back into him, allowing herself to rest fully in his embrace, his presence, his support.
“I woke up that morning with a start, like some honest-to-goodness jack-in-the-box shit and the only thing I could think of was, you’ve missed your period. You’ve missed your period. It was the only thought screaming in my head. I tapped around in the morning early darkness, trying to find my phone, getting increasingly anxious. Finally found it. Looked at the date and knew I was late but I’m not regular, you know that, so I…. I pulled my period tracking app, the first one said I was late, pulled up the second one, and I was way past my expected date. I just knew.”
She shook her head so vehemently the hair scratched his chest. “I knew with 100% certainty that I was pregnant and with that realization came anguish that I’d never felt before. Knowing was its own special kind of terror. I sat in bed wondering how I could have been so stupid, calling myself every kind of idiot there was. I hated myself, loathed everything about me. I wanted to die. I couldn’t imagine being pregnant, starting to swell up, everyone seeing, my parent seeing. I couldn’t imagine giving birth.” She shook her head, releasing a long exhale. “Having a baby. What the fuck was I going to do with a baby? I had nothing.”
She clasped and unclasped her fingers. “I kept going back to the moment when he said he didn’t want to use a condom, something about being directly connected to me, skin to skin, heart to heart some bullshit like that, that I knew was complete BS and still, I let it slide because I didn’t want to argue or fight because a tiny part of me loved that he wanted to be directly connected to me, whatever that meant. I remember thinking I heard somewhere you’re fertile maybe 6 or 7 days a month, so the likelihood of getting pregnant was slim. I figured afterwards I’d tell him that was a one-time deal. And there I was after our one-time deal.”
She fell silent, shaking her head before swallowing heavily. “I don’t even remember going through that day. I remember nothing about it. My parents and sister must have been home, but I remember nothing. I spent that night wondering what I was going to do. Do I tell him? Where do I go? What do girls usually do? All the horror stories of abortions gone wrong were playing in technicolour, one after the other. Something about spreading your legs and getting your uterus scrapped. There was something about a vacuum that sucks out the foetus. I’d heard of pills you could get at backdoor pharmacies. There was the premium service to be found in legit abortion clinics. Then there were the classics: bleach, concentrated tea and hangars. Hangars!”
She laughed dryly and cleared her throat. “I’d grown up sub-consciously judging girls who got themselves in trouble and now here I was considering the demerits of trying to use knitting needles because I was not going to use a hangar. I stared at the knitting needles on my nightstand for hours, wondering if I was brave enough to do it.”
She fell silent, biting down on her lip. He rubbed his palms gently over her, offering silent comfort.
“I decided I wasn’t going to tell anyone. That meant I wasn’t going to have money for a legit abortion place, so that was out. Also, if I wasn’t going to tell anyone, anyone including the people who scrap your uterus or suction it, so those two were out. They also sounded painful, and I wasn’t going to do that. Plus, they entailed getting naked in front of someone and I wasn’t even comfortable being naked in front of him. No way I was spreading my legs wide for a stranger to peer in. That left pills and the classics. It turns out I wasn’t brave enough for the knitting needles, yet, so pills it was. By some miracle, my parents decided to travel up-country for a funeral that weekend, which meant I’d have the house to myself because my sister was definitely going to sleep elsewhere. That meant I just had to wait for three days. Three days of knowing a baby was growing in me, a baby I didn’t want, a baby I couldn’t afford to want. Three days of being paralyzed with the fear that somehow my mom would know just by looking at me. It was agony.”
Her hands were trembling. He tangled their fingers together.
“At some point, it occurred to me that I may not have enough money even for the pills if I wanted good ones. So I thought I’d tell him and just ask him to supplement the cash I had. I did. Predictably, he said he didn’t believe it was his, even though he was the only person I’d slept with… ever. I swore I was telling the truth, and begged him to just supplement what I already had. He said something about how women are always making up lies like these to get men’s money. I pretty much just gave up at that point. I hung up and cried and cried and cried.”
She clasped his hands tighter. “My parents had left earlier that morning. I composed myself, took a shower, and then boarded a matatu. I got off about half an hour later in some random place where I knew no one and no one knew me. Then I went from one pharmacy to the next, only the ones with women, though. I didn’t even want to see a man, any man. I said I was in trouble, I’d missed my period and could they help me? One after the other, they said no, some pitifully, most with this judgment in their eyes that I took with me when I left. About an hour later, it was beginning to dawn on me that I may have to go to a backstreet clinic.”
This time it was he who tightened his hold of her. “Then I got to this tiny, dirty, pharmacy that was so poorly stocked I’d not take anything for free from them. I repeated my story, my voice cracking with desperation and the woman looked at me hard and finally said she may be able to help. She asked when I last got my period, then she gave me the four pills and instructions and a list of side effects to look out for, the most terrifying of which was continued pregnancy. I mean, she said bleeding to death, sepsis, and other scary things, but all I heard was possible side effects, and continued pregnancy. She said I may need some pain medication for the cramping. I took as many packets of the pain pills as I could afford. You know me.” She finished with a sad laugh.
She was deathly afraid of pain. Had a non-existent tolerance for physical pain. All pain, really.
“I rushed home. Then I prayed to the universe, to whatever deity was listening, something I hadn’t done in years. I begged them to let the medication work, and then I swallowed the pills, put on my maxi pad, and went to my room. I took two pairs of pain pills and sat in bed. I fell asleep and woke up in a pool of blood. Everything was soaked through, and my insides were tearing themselves up. I’ve never experienced cramps like that. At some point, I just sat on the toilet and free-bled into the bowl, red and pink clumps the size of tiny lemons dropping out of me. I took so many pain pills I was afraid I’d overdose right on the toilet and my mother would find me like that. I wondered what they’d tell people about how I died.” She laughed miserably.
“Anyway, I had the worst cramps the first two days and two nights. After that, it was light bleeding and on the fourth day, I was good. The relief I felt was so intense, it was like I was high. I swear it was like a religious experience. I washed and cleaned everything before my parents and sister returned and I never spoke of it to anyone. I’ve never told a single person.” She shook her head sadly.
He bent and kissed her neck and cheek, lifted her hands to his mouth, and peppered gentle kisses on them. “How do you think it got out?”
“I’m guessing he told someone I went to him asking for money for an abortion.”
“Asshole,” he cussed.
“It was the worst week of my life, but I don’t regret the abortion. I just hate that it was so needlessly agonizing when it could have been something simple if access to abortions was legal. Anyway, that’s the entire sordid story,” she finished, sounding out of breath, exhausted.
“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry you had to do that alone. And I’m sorry it was so painful.” He whispered.
She buried her face in his chest, taking deep breaths to regulate her breathing, to calm herself down.
He slid down so that he was more horizontal, and she was half lying on him. “I love you.”
He kept murmuring how much he loved, how proud he was of her, stopping only when her breathing evened out and he realized she was asleep. And even though his arms were going numb and tingling, he didn’t move except to pull her close.
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