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IN HIS BEST INTEREST

 

Chapter One

 

When I was a little girl my favorite game was House. I hung blankets from the clothesline stretching them to the tops of plastic patio chairs. For me, it was empowering to be the mom-character and inviting my neighborhood friends to play; I reveled in the responsibility. I remember creating delicious meals of grass spaghetti and rock meatballs served on Frisbees. Or when my outdoor theatre didn’t cooperate by bringing soft spring rains or summer thunder, I relocated my ‘children’ into the dirty garage. If accidental scrapes or cuts occurred they were healed with dandelions and magical mud-patties. It was a delightful time and I couldn’t wait for the day motherhood became a reality.

Now, on my twenty-first wedding anniversary as Scott and I drove to dinner, I focused on the memories and misconceptions of that little House-playing girl. The one who grew into a vibrant young bride. I floated down the aisle in beaded white lace and held my bouquet like a trophy, because tucked between the white roses and calla lilies were dreams and promises of the perfect life ahead.

But I was wrong.

Mud-patties don’t heal.

And my dreams and promises of the perfect life ahead must have escaped at the reception when I tossed my bouquet into the crystal chandelier.

I didn’t know I would become pregnant right away. I didn’t know what a birth injury was. I didn’t know very much about anything back then. Which was why I prepared myself tonight for a conversation with Scott that would return us to that very date and it wasn’t about our anniversary at all.

 

 excerpt from IN HIS BEST INTEREST © catherine dicairano 2010