Ugly Woman Handsome Man

Prologue

Prologue

The sounds of the hospital were kind of comforting. What an odd thing to think. But it was true. As I looked around the compact and clean waiting space, the wails of infants, cooing of mothers, squealing shoes of running toddlers bounced off my ears. Never in my life had I thought that I would be here. I shifted uneasily; the plastic chairs were not designed for comfort.

For what felt the umpteenth time, I swung my eyes to the receptionist. She was talking on the phone, clicking on the computer and answering yet another impatient parent in calm tones. I felt eyes on me before I saw them and I turned, seeing one of the prettiest woman in my life. Oh no!

"Hi," she smiled sweetly.

I recoiled. I don't like pretty people.

"Hi," I said, my voice sounding breathless. I quickly turned away.

"Erm."

I fisted my hands unconsciously and worked to loosen them. I turned to her.

"Do you know how long they take here? My husband," she blushed here, "needs to come from his office."

She only needs a little information. I glance back at the receptionist, now thronged by no less than three people. I sigh. I can see why she had turned to someone else to ask.

"They usually take forty five minutes to call you in. Once you are in, they send you out as swiftly as possible."

I turned away again.

"Oh, thank God. He would throw such a tantrum if it gets late," she said, wiping her forehead theatrically. I smile noncommittally, eager for the conversation to be over.

"How far along are you?" she asked, proving to be persistent.

"Six months," I said quietly, pressing my mind to not to go to six months ago.

"Wow, I am only three months," she said wistfully, "I am barely showing, am I?"

"No, you don't," I said, looking around discreetly for a spare chair where I can be alone and away from her. I on the other hand looked big enough to get stuck in the doorways.

"Looking for your husband?"

Well, that is a fair assumption to make considering the mangalsutra on my neck.

"Yes," I lie.

"What is your name?"

Will she never shut up? But innately in me are the manners that my mom had instilled. "Janani," I muttered, looking at my bulged stomach. I hope I can be as good a mom to my baby as my mom had been to me.

"I am Sunitha Kathick," she beams and my heart clenches tightly. I worked to keep my face impassive.

Mercifully, the receptionist calls me then and I slowly rise, moving my limbs with a clumsiness that bordered on stunted. Being pregnant did not help my balance or my self esteem.

When I made it to her, she struggled to look in my eyes and said, "Head to room no. 06."

Ah, that room was the closest from here. I amble along and push the door slowly. The woman inside is robed in a pale blue overalls, gloves covering her hands. She points at the dress, draped on a chair in front of a curtained corner of the room. I change quickly, throwing only the shirt on and leaving my inskirt be. I walk to the table and use the stool and push my bottom over the bed. Relief spiked through me as my back, sore from the plastic chair, relaxed against the mattress. Sigh. That felt great.

"Back again," said the woman, whom I had come to know as Sathya over the past trimester. One of the few people who didn't stare at me.

"Will be repeating it for at least a couple more months, I am afraid," I said, comfortable with her.