Cocoon

part ii.

But that was all the Before. You were now in the After.

The crepitating silence of time resonated in the streets like 200 year old floorboards under heavy boots. All of the joy you once felt evaporated; your memories floating around like specters, tokens of a life now past. Some days it felt like a hallucination, your life now so foreign it was as if you were watching it from the outside, hovering above yourself with the rest of your happy memories sulking around town like wraiths. Haunting yourself. It seemed as though everything you once knew had evacuated; disappeared without a trace. What remained wandered around like a lost dog, homeless and hopeless. When you got the overwhelming feeling that this was just a dream, and you would wake up next to Van, you flicked the inside of your wrist to bring you back to reality. This was real. This was happening. You were here. Van was not.

Not even a year ago you were chasing each other about, skipping over broken glass and laughing at everything.

Days passed the way the trees shed their leaves in autumn: slowly, then suddenly. You started to get out of bed more; even getting a job doing freelance copywriting and editing online. It took your mind out of the guest house, out of Llandudno, and gave you something tangible to do while putting money in your pocket that would all eventually go to the baby. You started shopping for baby stuff at thrift stores and online exchange groups, still avoiding social media for any other reason. You dressed modestly and kept your head low. You shopped off peak times to avoid running in to anyone you knew. Sometimes you felt like people were watching you, but you avoided eye contact to prevent any awkward encounters and dressed in baggy clothes to avoid suspicion.

But when you were in private, you couldn't help pull up your blouse and admire your swollen abdomen, and would often massage it for hours. It was something that was yours, something you made. No one could take this away from you.

Your body had rapidly expanded; ripe with the promise of new life. You thought you would hate pregnancy and in some ways you did, but you had never felt so powerful and beautiful. How strange and wonderful it was to be able to create life. It felt like you held the keys to the universe between your thighs. Men had to construct power out of arcane figments and through oppressing others; women were born with it, naturally.

Motherhood was never something you thought much about outside of eventually having children with Van someday. It wasn't something you were desperate for or avoiding; just a thing that would happen in life like death and taxes. You liked kids well enough, but the idea of being a mum the way some people elevated the title didn't appeal to you. You had always pitied the girls who got pregnant right away, pushing their babies in prams around town as if it were an expensive car. They were so simple and happy, having nothing in life but purpose. Their baby's fathers were deadbeats or on and off again, some leftover boyfriend from high school, some anonymous and truant.

Having a child with someone you loved seemed natural. Single motherhood had never seemed like a desirable option, you never imagined yourself wanting a child so badly you were willing to do it alone. But here you were, pregnant and unwed.

What changed, you weren't sure. You and Van had never talked about what would happen if you unexpectedly fell pregnant. He was very confident in his purpose to be a father, talking about having children as if it was coming up on the calendar like Christmas. However, he never reconciled how children would factor into his career, especially his desire to be a career band. If he was constantly touring, how often would he be able to see them? Surely he wouldn't expect them to go on tour with him, depriving them of a normal childhood. Then again, having a rockstar as a father voids your life from any semblance of normalcy. Everything would be a compromise or a sacrifice.