He was quiet, too quiet, the kind of quiet that is filled with regret. I couldn’t speak, I couldn’t move, all I could do was hold my breath and wait for his response. If he would have cried or even cursed I would have known how to react. But sitting on the edge of my bed and staring blankly into space was not going to cut it. Everything that was big now seemed small, everything that was once important held no importance at all. He won’t fucking move, I want to yell but at this moment no words will come out. I feel my body tremble, its 95 degrees and I don’t have the air conditioner on, so my body is having a reaction to his non reaction.

I remember when the sight of him wearing no shirt and boxers turned me on, now its causing me to tremble. Will he leave? Will he stay? Will he pull the whole, “you didn’t take care of business like you were supposed to rant” just to leave and buy himself some time? I really wish I would stop trembling its making the bed shake. The steady shake is causing the bed to squeak and that’s the only noise other than his calm breathing and my fast paced short breathes that is providing the soundtrack to this “situation.” He let out a low laugh and looked up at the ceiling, if I didn’t know any better I’d say he was having a silent talk with God and laughing at his present circumstance.

Now it’s back to staring at the wall, why do I care what he thinks anyways? Why do women always have to care and tremble by a mans opinion of her current “situation?” Fuck it, I can do it by myself…but I don’t want to. I want to do this with him, and that’s why my body is trembling. I’m scared I will have to do this alone, I don’t want to be alone, not with this. I can be alone with a lot of things but not with this. I have been the strong independent black woman who can fight crime, chase monsters away, and still have a beat face wearing red bottoms. My face is wet, now it was my turn to silently laugh, they were tears. Silent tears, a trembling body, and my worst fears becoming a reality all while he sits and stares into space.

I’m glad his back is against me I don’t want him to see my tears, I don’t want a pity party or a fucking guilt trip. But I could go for a hug, some form of comfort, even his face staring blankly into mines, it would mean something. I could even go for him rolling his eyes and shaking his head, he does that every time I am getting on his nerves. That would be nice. I need some form of strength because I can’t take this much longer, a bible verse, a joke, hell even a meme would do. A deep sigh this time followed by him lifting his left arm, slowly placing his hand on his neck and rubbing it while looking at the floor. I find myself mimicking his recent change in position but I used my right arm to soothe my neck. Without turning around to face me he quietly cleared his throat and whispered, “what do you want to do?”

It was my turn to look up at the ceiling and laugh, it was my turn to stare blankly into space. I wasn’t trembling anymore, I wasn’t nervous or anxious those emotions had passed. His voice was always husky, full of confidence, one of the things I loved about him. Now it was weak and it had morphed into a boyish whisper. “What do you think I should do?” I had to ask, I needed to know how he felt, I already knew how I felt. He cleared his throat, this time turning to face me, the squeak in the bed returned and the silence was now being filled. He looked a little more calm maybe it was because I was now face to face with him, “I think it would be dope to start a family. But I’m scared, is it okay to be scared?” He looked into my eyes searching for my thoughts. The bed was squeaking again, I noticed it was him who was now trembling, he was nervous, and I could tell he was anxious.

“It’s okay to be scared, because I am petrified.” We both laughed. He took the same hand that he rubbed his neck with earlier and touched my stomach. At first he hesitated making sure it was okay, I flinched a little not out of pain, his touch there was unfamiliar…but wanted. “Pillows! We need lots and lots of pillows.” I scrunched up my face in confusion, his voice returned wearing the confidence of a lion, “My co-worker, when she was pregnant she needed lots and lots of pillows.” I laughed so hard at his light bulb moment and silently thanked God that I wouldn’t be doing this alone.


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