Menopause

 

I look at the shopping place and I think Wow lots of people today. I wanted to get groceries when my husband called and we decided what was for the best. I nodded as I heard him though I knew he couldn’t see me. I wanted to ask about the child but I did not because at the moment I know he didn’t want to talk about it at all. One of his gripes was children. Hardly could stand them. Hardly could understand anything anything about me wanting them badly. I strolled through the apartments wondering if I should call my ex but then I thought maybe not. Not the time. Seeing odd shelves stacked with breakfast cereals I wondered about the processed palate of indecision. False consciousness. Was I really conscious? I wanted to pick something sweet and childish but my brain scolded me. Said you are not a child anymore and I could see myself as a kid; in front of the mirror playing with an aeroplane  made out of wood. An antic of Dad’s I liked holding on to when he couldn’t spend time with me. None of them could. Mom spent most of her time baking cupcakes and feeding them to me. I was the only kid. Or cleaning the house or kitchen very much. My Dad worked well enough and I asked what he did and he told me he throws paper into a basket. Found out he was an industrial designer who hated architects because he had wanted to design homes and not machines. He had hated machines but Grandpa and Grandma had been mechanics so he inherited from them into knowing parts of machines but not love. My mother’s clean attitude with its prudish neat hair and Victorian law maker’s discipline made him marry her. But he never really loved her. 

“Off, watch it buddy!”

“I’m sorry Jenna.” It was my ex.

“You?” she smiled, “Hey. How are you? Doing Grocery shopping? Oh…” she picked up the bran, “Oh you are still a health nut.” 

“Not really I was going to buy crazy loops.” I don’t smile. I gulp. I know…I just know…

“How’s the husband?” she smiles, “And you and crazy loops no way!” 

“You didn’t think I would marry another man because I am a guy and I dated you for three years.” I coughed. I thought about my watch. Should I look at it? “But Brad and I are getting divorced I think.” 

“Wow, really?” Jenna smirked, “I had no idea.”

I stared at her. Her eyes marking her target, “You thought it wouldn’t work out?” I say it very annoyed.

“Brad, that small man with the squinty eyes and cough is more aggressive than you like some form of deformed Napoleon. I don’t know how can you can stand him. I just thought you marrying him was rash. Not to mention you being a man too and well — well, I didn’t take you as a bi when I dated you.” she fidgeted, “I just found him the opposite of me you know, like you are trying to run away from me…”

“Don’t be so full of your Jenna.” That was kinda true, Brad was a bit too possessive and jealous, he liked things clean, too clean, made my Mom look like the general to his crown of king-clean. I liked his smooth hands; his crop-length school hair that is a thing of strict grammar schools, his dressing maintained that too.  There was like this oddness around him, quietness that needed a little hiatus. I was a good comma children were a period dot to him. I think that’s why he decided to be a accountant because of all those neat lines; he loves all style bookkeeping as it is accurate, slow, steady and efficient. Children draw outside of lines. 

“Well aren’t you cranky hot shot.” Jenna with her declare hips hand held posture that would irritate Brad, “Why does he call himself Brad? Why not Bradley?” 

“You know he hates abbrievations but some like in accounts make sense to him.” But I had called him Bradley, “But he’s like you; he doesn’t want children.” 

“Hey,” she put a hand on my shoulder, “Can’t you be happy in being a teacher a little while longer? You get to be with your kids a lot.” 

“Yes, but I don’t get to live with them.” I protested with a sigh, “And the educational system  at present treats them like…” I look around getting shivers and a eerie shudder in my belly.

“Like?”

“Nevermind.” 

“Well call me ok.”

“Alright.”

As she leaves I head down the aisles. Looking at baby food, I stop. The aisle had only a young mother searching for flavours. I picked one. Banana. Tropical. Reminded me of something rainy and palm tree like. Without thinking much I opened it and started to eat it…

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