Blue Eyes

Since I can't post my novel on here, I thought I'd post my first short story.

Blue Eyes

She sits on the toilet seat, feeling completely numb while staring at the double pink lines in the pregnancy test shaking in her hands. The room spins and her heart pounds so fast, she’s not sure if she’s overheated from her pulse working overtime, or from the furnace blasting hot air on her face. Water drips from the faucet, echoing in her ears, like a low bass drumbeat. She squints as she looks away from the positive test, dropping it to the bathmat on the floor. Her tears are flowing now, running into her open, smiling, mouth. Sarah tries to gain control of her sobs as she licks the tears from her lips and wipes her warm cheeks with the soft toilet paper, closing her eyes from the gentle touch.

She remembers a hot summer day in late August like it was only yesterday. She was eighteen and needed to find out why her menstrual cycle was nonexistent when she was feeling perfectly healthy. Her appointment lasted an hour.  Her gynaecologist sat her down and explained to her that she had Polycystic Ovarian Syndrome. As a small-minded eighteen-year-old, Sarah left the doctors office reeling with the news that she wouldn’t need to take birth control because she wasn’t likely to get pregnant without medical intervention.

Seven years later, Sarah finds herself in a ten year marriage, trying to conceive a baby with a totally different mindset. Injection after injection seemed like a fair trade for her own bundle of joy; except the medications weren’t working. Sarah knew her husband, Adrian would have worked three jobs, so money wasn’t the issue when they decided to give up on having children. Disappointment, month after month, year after year, decided for them.

Ella, Sarah’s golden retriever, whines at the bottom of the bathroom door, bringing Sarah back to reality, reminding her that she was sure this was never going to happen for them.

Sarah stands up, her legs feeling like jelly as she places the pregnancy test in the vanity drawer for proof; she knows Adrian is going to want to see it for himself. She opens the bathroom door and sees Ella sitting on her haunches, her head cocked to the side and her eyes round with silent questions.

“Hi there, gorgeous,” Sarah says aloud, rubbing Ella’s ears in gentle circles.

Ella licks Sarah’s hand and Sarah wonders if Adrian is reminded of the earlier dark days when he looks at Ella. She tries not to remember; Ella brings her such happiness now. Adrian brought Ella home on Valentines Day two years ago with a velvety red bow tied around her wrinkly neck. He had to have known it could never take away her pain, yet he had to try something. He told her sometime later that he couldn't stand to see Sarah struggling with her depression any longer. She had to admit, he did leave her alone for months, watching her slip into a dark void. She would sleep all day, or cry all day; she was a zombie that complained of body aches and pains, and ultimately lost her job because of it.

Sarah looks at the clock and realises she doesn't have much time until Adrian is home from work. She has time for a quick trip to the mall and maybe to the grocery store. There are a few things she needs to pick up.

An hour later, Sarah has Adrian’s favourite lasagna cooking in the oven and sparkling apple cider chilling in the refrigerator. She knows it's probably going overboard; a small glass of wine likely won't hurt, but with this blessing they've been given today, she wants to make sure she does everything right. No wrong turns. She hears the snow crunching under the tires of Adrian's Volkswagen, and her heart immediately starts to pound again. The diesel engine idles with a comforting rumble as she watches him through the kitchen window. Looking through the frosted glass with her stomach in knots, she regretfully realises she'll never forget the plop of bird shit on his windshield as she tries to see his handsome face through the white splatter.

She watches him as he hurries to the front door with his face buried in his bright red scarf she just got him for Christmas, and hears the front door open a moment later.

“Jesus. It’s cold out there, love,” he yells into the foyer, kicking his snowy boots onto the doormat. “We really should move somewhere warmer.”

Sarah takes a big gulp of air, trying to calm her rampant heartbeat as she swings her head around the corner, meeting the surprised eyes of her husband. She hasn’t had her stomach flip flop like this since she was in her early twenties and they were first together; she likes this distant, familiar, feeling. 

“Hi, Honey. I’ve been saying that for years,” she says, taking his coat and hanging it up on wooden coat rack.

“You look good today.” He smiles as he nuzzles into her neck, shaking the snow from his hair down the back of her bare neck. 

“You did that on purpose,” she yelps, jumping from his embrace with a smile plastered on her face, lightly punching him in the arm.

“I cover you in snow and you’re still happy. What gives?” he asks with a grin, finding her playfulness irresistible.

“Come with me, and I’ll show you,” Sarah whispers, pulling on his hand, grinning from ear to ear.

“I can smell the lasagna. What is this? You trying to soften me up for something?” he laughs, but follows Sarah to their bedroom without pushing for more answers.

“Here, have a seat,” Sarah says, turning to Adrian and patting the side of the bed.

“All right,” he agrees with an inquisitive gleam in his dark-brown eyes. He watches her with adoration, loving the way her back arches when she bends over.

“I got you this today.” She smiles so wide her mouth hurts, handing him the present she picked up this afternoon at the mall.

Sarah notices Adrian looks happy already, and he doesn’t even know what’s going on. He’s like that, always so eager to please her. She sits on the bed beside him and can hardly contain her emotions as she watches him tug the yellow sleeper out of the delicate tissue paper.

She loves the way Adrian’s cheeks flare with an instant red heat, and she loves the smile that takes over his face even more. He stares at the sleeper with a tear running down his cheek, rubbing his fingers over the embroidered words, world’s best daddy. He surprises Sarah when he jumps up and grabs her, spinning her in a fast circle, all in the same fluid movement. Her feet don’t touch the ground; he has her held so tight to his chest. She can feel his heart beating in rhythm with her own, knowing this day, this moment, will forever be the brightest moment of their lives.

“Can it be? Is it real? Am I really gonna be a daddy?” He smiles through his tears.

“Mmm Hmm.” Sarah quietly cries with him, wiping the tears from his cheeks.

“God, I want to take you out to celebrate,” Adrian says, rolling his shoulders, trying to get himself under control.

“I made your favourite supper,” Sarah says with a smile. “Then we’ll go out and celebrate. I wouldn’t mind going dancing tonight.”

“Anything you want, love.” Adrian rubs Sarah’s cheek with a gentle caress.

“Was that the buzzer I heard a few minutes ago,” he asks, walking out of the bedroom and into the kitchen.

“I don’t care if it burns,” Sarah declares. “It would still taste like heaven tonight.”

“I know what you mean,” Adrian agrees, taking two plates out the cupboard.

Sarah pours two glasses of apple cider and silently gazes at the sparkling bubbles, feeling on top of the world.

“You okay, love?” Adrian asks through a mouthful of lasagna.

“Mmm Hmm,” Sarah absentmindedly answers, looking up from the champagne flute in her hand, and into her husband’s concerned eyes.

She smiles as she gets lost in her own thoughts, admiring Adrian’s striking features. She knows how lucky she is to have him by her side, never having to second guess how he feels for her. She knows without a doubt, he’d run to hell and back just to make her smile. She leans over her plate of lasagna, and he knows what she’s looking for. They’ve been kissing for so long; it feels like their lips have been designed for one another. The warm touch of his lips on hers radiates with more love than she deserves. She pulls back from his embrace and wonders if their baby will have her small round ears, his soft full lips, his dark curly hair, or the ocean blue eyes of her boss. 

Holy wow, I suck at keeping up on a blog.

I hadn't realised how long ago it was I last posted.

I've finally got a few queries out and got a few rejections back. It's strange, but I kind of even liked my first rejection. I smiled when I read the words "I don't think I would be able to place this project." I think the happy feeling actually surprised me. I realise now, it's because I liked knowing that I was finally doing this thing. I was finally sending off my work to be read by the people who know what they're talking about.

I just wish when an agent sent a rejection they would say why. I know they don't have time; what with weeding through email after email after email. It would just be nice to see "Your writing is solid but your plot needs work, or, this might have potential but your query letter needs work."

I do however like when an agent takes the time to put my name at the top of the email. I suppose it goes both ways. They don't like "Dear agent" and I don't like "Dear author".

I understand why they say to start a new book or work on something else while you wait. You could drive yourself insane checking your email for new messages.