“A Breakthrough, Bleeding” (Story 8, Excerpt 1)

The following excerpt is the first part of “A Breakthrough, Bleeding”. You can read the second part here.

I quietly opened the front door for Theo, and we matched our footsteps as we climbed the stairs, to sound like only one person.

Both Theo and I were home from college for winter break. He had parked his car further up the street. Mama and Tato were watching a movie and drinking wine in the family room.

I could tell that Theo was nervous, and I liked the feeling of power I had over him. Calming him with my kisses, I covered his mouth with my own whenever he tried to protest.

Even though I had gotten him to my room, Theo still expressed doubts about spending the night.

“What if they find us?” Asked Theo. “I’m never going to be allowed to see you again. Do you think sneaking around is worth that risk?”

I couldn’t think beyond the present moment. I pushed him down on my bed and started kissing his neck until he stopped talking and began to take off my shirt. I loved to wrap myself around him as tightly as I could. Sometimes, I didn’t even notice how tightly I was squeezing him until he asked me to stop.

Even though we hadn’t used condoms the past few times, Theo still tried to get me to agree to let him use one. I had some in the nightstand by my bed, from when Arthur and I were still together.

Theo was extremely worried about impregnating me, even though I took the Pill. Every time Theo and I had sex without a condom, I felt like I had won some kind of battle.

Instead of fending off the experience, like I had done many times with Arthur, I welcomed sex with Theo. When Theo and I were naked, my body became like the paper I used for my print-making projects, ready to take whatever image he wanted to press into me.

When we were done, both effortlessly satisfied, I curled my body into a ball and pressed my back into him. I didn’t want to move.

“You have to get up,” said Theo. “You have to pee after penetration. You know that. I don’t want you to get a bladder infection.”

“No,” I mumbled, because I was already half asleep.

“You have to go,” said Theo. “Get up. Don’t be lazy.”

“Stop, leave me alone,” I said. “I can take care of myself.”

“You never listen to me,” said Theo. “I’m just looking out for your health.”

“Just leave,” I said. “You’re really annoying me.”

I only said it because I didn’t think he would actually do it.

But Theo didn’t even ask me to accompany him to the door. I had smuggled him into my parents’ house, which meant he was supposed to be putting his complete trust in me, but now he was walking out as if he knew exactly where to go. I felt unnecessary.

Even though I had told him to leave, I was devastated when he actually walked out the door. After I was that my parents had not noticed, I walked back to my room with tears streaming down my cheeks.

I was actually trying hard not to cry, but it came anyway. I was gritting my teeth through it, mumbling about what a jerk he was and wiping the salty-tasting water off my face. I batted at my cheeks so violently that the cotton shirt I was wearing actually scratched my skin.

With Theo, I wanted to speak up for myself many times but mostly never did, only because I know he wouldn’t like what I had to say. No matter what, he would find a reason to call me “difficult”.

I started to clean my room so that I wouldn’t have to think about what had just happened. I had been meaning to do this anyway, but never had a chance. Any time I was home from school for break, I wanted to do so many things in New Jersey that I never got around to cleaning.

Beneath a pile of art books, I found one of Arthur’s pharmacy textbooks, which he must have left here a long time ago. We hadn’t spoken in months. Did he need it now? He had never mentioned to me that he was missing a book, and I had never noticed it before.

Whatever. I was so exhausted that I crawled back into bed, clutching the textbook in my arms. The sheets were moist from sweat, but I tried not to think about the feeling. The cool cardboard book cover felt comforting against my skin.

The sound of my parents getting ready for traditional Sunday morning breakfast at the Tick Tock Diner eventually woke me up. Mama was notorious for slamming doors and dropping her hairdryer, waking everyone in the house like a resident rooster.

I woke to Mama’s noises and found that I was spooning a 645-page hardback with a cracked spine. What was I supposed to do now?

I pushed the book off the edge of my bed because I couldn’t stand to look at the emotionless illustrations of human innards and the photographs of people’s unattractive symptoms.

I hoped that using the bathroom would help me go back to sleep and wished Theo was still in my room so I could say, look, I did it. I did what you freaking wanted.

I sat down on the toilet, pulled down my panties, and put my elbows on my knees, resting my head in my hands. When I looked down at the fabric stretched around my feet, I was alarmed by a dark streak of blood on the cotton crotch.

I bent over and touched the stain, still wet, with my fingers; the spot left thick, red mucus on my hand. But I already had my period, only about a week ago.

My first suspicion was that the Pill, which I took every morning, had done something to my body. I was constantly skeptical of my birth control, even though I was glad it allowed me to have sex with Theo without condoms.

I thought it freed me, but in reality I never felt free; I tried not to think about all the things the hormones might be doing to my body, even though my gynecologist, Dr. Girard, assured me that they were completely safe.

I was starting to blame everything on the Pill: headaches, backaches, stomachaches, everything. I was also always terrified that I would gain weight, but Dr. Girard had prescribed “low-dose” pills to prevent the bloating. And I was never convinced that something as small as a watch battery could actually protect me from pregnancy.

I inserted a tampon to stop the bleeding and assessed my birth control pack. I was so used to taking the Pill every morning that sometimes I wondered if I had forgotten to take it.

The first row and the first two spaces of the second row were empty, and this morning’s Pill was Tuesday, today, according to my serene landscape calendar, a promotional item for anti-anxiety medication that Arthur had swiped for me at a pharmaceutical conference.

Arthur was still present in my life in so many ways. I still used his calendar, I still had his textbook, and I still wondered about him. What he would never understand was that I still cared about him but just couldn’t imagine us together anymore. I was being pulled in so many different directions, and I had to follow through on one.

Stupid Theo, I probably wouldn’t hear from him for days. We probably wouldn’t see each other again until we were both at school. I couldn’t think about it. He would just make me crazy.

I didn’t feel like being alone and decided to join my parents for breakfast at the Tick Tock Diner. I was actually really hungry and wanted to eat a big breakfast. I dressed myself, applied makeup, and gathered my things and the textbook, thinking that the right thing to do would be to drop it off at Arthur’s doorstep later in the day. The book must have been expensive, and I had no use for it.

I opened the textbook to its index and found birth control pills. A small section of the chapter on reproductive medicine explained how the Pill worked. I ran my finger over the glossy page.

Breakthrough bleeding, or bleeding that occurs while a woman is taking active birth control pills, was normal, according to the book. I turned the page to find two sets of illustrations. One showed the sperm as it met an egg in a woman not on the Pill. The other showed the sperm swimming idly inside a woman whose eggs have not been released.

I was impressed by the detail in the illustrations and wondered how a person could become an artist for a medical textbook. I had never tried my hand at such realistic drawings and wondered if I would be any good at them.

I liked the first illustration better, in theory. I found something very appealing about the drama of the sperm finding the egg. But I was disgusted by the way the sperm dug into it, the way it implanted itself and swelled.

I really did not want anything so violent and invasive occurring in my own body, and I was glad to know that sperm found no purpose, as long as I was on the Pill. I closed the textbook.

While waiting for Mama to finish getting ready, I took a sketchbook and some pastels and began to sketch the scene on my calendar, with its babbling brook in a grove of blooming cherry blossoms. I wanted to distract myself from the uncomfortable, wet feeling between my legs and the cramps that were burning and twisting my lower abdomen, which I hoped were just from hunger.

I tried to start with the blossoms, with their pinks and magentas. But I couldn’t put down the red pastel. I began to trace the movement of the stream in red, even though the stream in the calendar was mossy green.

I was about to begin another color when Mama knocked on my bedroom door and opened it a crack. She crouched down next to me to see what I was drawing. Mama licked her thumb and cleaned red smudges off my cheeks. The red pastel had gotten on my face and elbows, and I hadn’t yet noticed.

“I don’t feel well, Mama.”

“What’s the matter?”

“I am bleeding really heavily, but it’s not yet time for my period.”

“I told you not to take that damn pill. It’s not like you’re engaged. Why do you need to mess with your body?”

I was not prepared for Mama’s reaction and could barely form a response.

“I was just wondering if you had any idea what might be causing it. Do you?”

“No, Veda, you really need to go to the doctor. And ask the doctor if it’s wise for you to be taking the Pill, if you’re having symptoms like that.”

“Ok, well I was hoping for some sympathy, at least,” I said, even though I knew I wouldn’t get any.

Tato drove us to the Tick Tock Diner, on Route 3, in the family stationwagon, and we approached the door of the diner, my family’s reflection marking the shiny, mirrored exterior of the building.

“I still remember baby Veda here in her carriage when she was small,” said Johnny, the host.

Johnny was a tall, skinny man with a large gut that didn’t match his wiry limbs. He had thick, black hair that protruded at least two gelled inches from his scalp and a silver belt buckle with a Tick Tock clock replica. I imagined a baby carriage and wished I could remember what it was like to be pushed by my parents, observing the world from the safety of my blanketed vehicle.

Johnny left three thick, plastic menus and one computer printout of daily specials on the table. The sound of the plastic as it hit the table’s surface made me jump.

“Why are you carrying that pharmacy book, by the way?” Asked Tato.

“I wanted to bring it to Arthur’s house,” I said. “I found it in my room.

“Oh, how is Arthur?”

“I don’t know. We don’t talk anymore.”

I held up the thick textbook, which I placed next to me on the booth seat. I could tell Tato didn’t want to ask me about what happened with Arthur.

“He was such an ambitious guy,” said Tato. “Those pharmacy school students get lucrative jobs.”

“Yeah, but he was so busy all the time,” I said. ”Sometimes I’d rather not hear about what he studies. Like side effects for medicine, for example. He liked to tell me those.”

“You want the usual?” Asked Sally, the waitress.

She didn’t even bother pulling out her pencil and writing pad, half of its sheets folded over the top, from the front of her black smock. We all nodded. Sally already had the coffee pot in hand and poured everyone a cupful.

I studied Sally and noticed that her stomach was protruding under her waitress apron. Her breasts looked larger too.

“Won’t you sit down with us for a few minutes and have some coffee?” Asked Mama. “It’s not too busy, and we haven’t seen you in ages.”

“I would, but I can’t drink coffee,” said Sally. “I’m pregnant.”

How horrible it would to be pregnant, work a job where you have to stay on your feet all day, live off of tips, and worry about what it would be like to raise a child on your own.

I didn’t see a ring on Sally’s finger so I assumed that she would be alone, but maybe I was wrong. Also, her tiny waitress uniform was not very forgiving, and I imagined that Sally’s Friday and Saturday night tips from horny, drunk men would not be as plentiful, given Sally’s large belly.

Had Sally never heard of birth control?

I had no idea what I would do if I found out that I was pregnant. Would I abort it? I would like to think I wouldn’t, but I wasn’t sure. I was grateful for the Pill.

I wrapped my hands around the warm coffee mug and leaned in close to the steam. If I were alone, I would probably press the warm mug against my lower abdomen, which felt bloated, radiating, and tangled, like the jungle gym my parents recently removed from the backyard and sold.

My stomach hurt now and felt like it was cramping so I excused myself. I wanted to check on my tampon and possibly change it.

On the fake marble counter in the bathroom was a pile of free pamphlets titled “Catholic Truths and Popular Fictions.” Each booklet was a staple-bound, pocket-size guide printed on neon yellow computer paper. Someone must have assembled these guides by hand because each cover had a hand-drawn picture of a cross. The ink from the marker had seeped through the paper.

The pamphlets reminded me of the mass programs we used in high school. Since we only went to mass on special days, the secretary in the principal’s office would photocopy themed booklets on colored pastel paper. They were hastily stapled and gave me papercuts if I wasn’t careful holding them.

If Madsy and I weren’t feeling daring enough to skip  mass, we would usually bring a pen to those masses so that we could use the pamphlet for doodling and note passing.

I took one pamphlet into the stall and placed it on the ledge, on top of the toilet paper dispenser. I pulled down my jeans and panties and reached under myself to pull the tampon string as if it were a trigger for a grenade that I was about to detonate. I was nervous.

Nothing exploded, thankfully, but the tampon was saturated with blood. I inserted one that I had in my purse, readjusted my clothes, and looked into the toilet. I noticed thick blood and discharge now, pea-sized spots of matter and pieces of floating scraps that looked like torn, red tissue paper.

I put the toilet seat down, flushed the debris, and rested for a few minutes, wondering what could be wrong with me. I flipped through the pamphlet to distract myself, almost cutting my fingers on the rough edges. Halfway through was an illustration of a baby and the following text:

We believe that life begins when sperm and egg meet. The pharmaceutical industry believes that life begins after fertilization, during implantation. When they say that the Pill does not cause abortions, they lie. Sometimes the Pill, especially the low-dose Pill, fails to prevent an egg’s release, and sperm that enters a woman’s body can fertilize the egg. When the hormones make the uterus an inhospitable place for the fertilized egg, an abortion occurs.

As I read the birth control information in the pamphlet, I re-imagined the process those artists had illustrated in Arthur’s textbook.

I never knew that some versions of the Pill, especially the kind that I was taking, did not always prevent an egg’s release. Because Theo and I didn’t use condoms, fertilization was possible, if an egg had been released.

I remembered the picture of the sperm violently burrowing into the egg and felt betrayed. Did that happen inside my own body?

I wondered if what was floating in the toilet were the beginnings of a baby that I had unknowingly aborted, the sperm and egg and the lining floating there in the water.

But the evidence was gone now. I stuffed the pamphlet in my purse.

(Photo by nateOne)