The dream fades as my mind startles awake. Something cool feels good against my cheek, but my body is stiff. I’m lying on something hard. I touch it, letting my hand run across its smooth surface, until it hits soft fur that smells like an old wet rag. My eyes open in semi-darkness and see the frayed bathmat. I’m on the bathroom floor. Why?
My thin nightgown is stuck to my sweaty body. The air conditioner clicks on, blowing an old spider web stuck to the nightlight by the door. My eyes focus on it because it looks like its breathing, but then, everything begins to spin. My stomach clinches as I burp and taste bile.
I curl my knees up against my stomach, wrapping my arms around them, hoping the feeling will pass, but it doesn’t. Get to the toilet. Now!
I crawl, slipping on my nylon nightgown, until my fingers touch the smooth base of the toilet. Reaching up, my hands sink into the squishy plastic seat and I pull myself up, leaning over the bowl gagging. My throat burns as the vomit splashes in the water. The sour smell of vomit and garlic make my nose twitch. Breathing through my mouth, I lean back on my feet, feeling better.
I slip down to the floor, reveling in the coolness of the tile. With sweaty hands, I push my damp hair away from my face. The spaghetti was bad. That’s all this is!
Eliza cries from the nursery and my body responds. The milk tingles as it drips from my breasts and dampens my nightgown with its warmth. The rustling of sheets and David’s’ shuffling footsteps tell me he’s gone to get her. I sigh, relieved.
I push myself up so I’m sitting, knowing he’ll be back soon. My mind races, trying to remember when we last had sex. I shake my head in disbelief. I’m still nursing; it’s too soon!
Yet, I’m compelled to rummage through the cabinet under the sink. I tug open the door and the strong scent from the spilled bottle of Obsession hits my nose, making me gag, but I’m determined. My fingers reach inside the darkness, knowing exactly where to go.
They pass over the burned out hair dryer with its melted plastic, the spray bottles of cleaner, the old dry sea sponge, until they touch the cardboard box. It’s exactly where I left it, almost six months ago. I yank it out. My eyes can’t read the label in the darkness, but they don’t need to. I know it says Pregnancy Test.
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My focus with this story was to use sensory description in the story and stay in the present first-person Point Of View. I wanted you to feel what this woman feels!
It also fits this week’s prompt for Red Riding Hood, sponsored by The Red Dress Club. The prompt is to write about sex without actually describing the act. As the prompt says, write without “any heaving bosoms or girded manhood.” Constructive feedback is welcomed!
Guest Post Monday — Liz, 6birds.net
This coming Monday, August 15, 2011, I will have a guest writer for the Story Photo post. She’s a young blogger with lots of talent:~) I encourage you to stop by, take on her “photo challenge” and welcome her!