Page 15 of Heartless
“To see if maybe one of us has a health condition that’s preventing us from having a baby.”
“What?” he turns, facing me and scowling at me.
“I mean, this isn’t normal. Right?”
Scoffing, he shakes his head in disbelief. “If we don’t have a kid on your command every time we fuck, so something’s wrong with my sperm?”
“I never said that O. That’s not fair. It could be me for all I know.”
“I’m tired. I don’t want to do this shit tonight, MJ,” he says, lying back down.
“Is it so wrong that I hold onto hope?” I ask, sitting cross-legged on our bed, facing him.
“It isn’t, but damn, does this wish for a child have to permeate every aspect of our lives, MJ?”
“What woman wouldn’t feel the way that I do?”
“I don’t know, MJ. I’m a man. I’m just so tired of this being our entire focus. Somehow, every conversation, every intimate moment, turns back to this. I can’t take the pressure anymore. It’s getting so bad that hell, I don’t even want to have sex most times.”
Tears prick my eyes, and I say, “You don’t mean that.”
“I mean it. We talk about having kids when we wake in the morning, during the middle of the day when we call to check in on each other, when I arrive home, and every night before we go to bed. I’m tired,” he says, sitting up in bed and flinging his legs over the side.
“It doesn’t have to be this bad, O! You’re making it this bad!”
“No! You are!”
“Where are you going?”
“To sleep in the guest room. Someplace that’s peaceful and free of talk about kids.”
He slams the bedroom door, leaving me feeling alone and empty inside.
4 – MEADOW
“Let’s run through that routine one more time, ladies!”
A chorus of groans sounds through the tiny room as I wipe the sweat from my face. I smile and take a sip of water as I queue up the music again.
“From the top!” I say, returning my water bottle to the hardwood floor again.
It reminds me of my own hardwood floors in my studio. It’s time to get them waxed again, and I groan internally thinking about the bill for that service. I know if I tell Onyx, he’ll get them done without blinking an eye, but I don’t want that. It’s important that I maintain a certain amount of independence where my business is concerned.
The lyrics pour over our bodies, and the music intertwines with our souls. I stop halfway through, watching my dancers in awe. Each of them has done what I asked which is to become one with the song to the point where this song is their life story, their heart’s desire.
Tonight, we will be performing three routines here at the Gaillard Center, and I want our performance to be perfect.
Just as we finish, there’s a knock at the door. Karla, the coordinator of tonight’s show, opens the door.
“Ladies, you’re up in ten minutes,” she says, beaming beautifully at me as her green eyes sparkle with excitement.
I smile back at her and say, “Thanks, Karla.”
“No prob,” she says, nodding as her black pageboy bob shakes with every strand falling back into place seamlessly.
I turn back to my dancers and ask, “Are we ready?”
They all run into our circle and hold hands. “Mal?” I say, prompting one of my dancers.