“Without life, hope is dead. There is nothing left, no action to be taken except to bury the body and wait. For time and the natural order will soon render it back into the dust from which it was taken.” - TITAN Vol. 1
Chapter One: Conception
She stared for a long second as two pink stripes streaked in front of her eyes like road lines in the fog, blurring and fading as her brain tried to process their meaning. How could this…
“John!” “JOHN!!” Shira yelled. Her voice wavered and broke as she started to shake; dark curls dancing on her shoulders as the joyful tears began to flow, her brown eyes shifting to the shade of jade green they turned only when she was struck with some great emotion.
Her husband thundered down the hall to the bathroom door, certain something terrible had happened. He grabbed his trembling wife by her shoulders, and looked her over trying to find the injury or arterial bleed her cry had insinuated. Instead, what he read was a turbulent expression he could not fathom and so he did what now came naturally to him. Five years of experience had taught him that when Shira was overcome, the best response was to hold her small curvy frame tightly against his chest, rest his chin on top of her thick hair and breathe deeply. Eventually the pace of her breathing would match his steady deep breaths and the moment would pass.
This time was different. Instead of letting him pull her in, she thrust her hands under his bearded face. Waving something. A stick of some kind.
“Babe, what is that? You’re going to have to hold still if you want me to know what this is.”
John took a step back so that he could get a better look at the object Shira was fixated on but before he could make anything of it, she dropped a bombshell.
“I’m pregnant.”
She spoke the words softly, their impact having an instantaneous effect. John’s blue eyes went from concern to incredulity and he froze in place. An eternity seemed to pass until he fully registered this new information - looking from the test to Shira and back again. It took him a full 10 seconds to stammer a reply.
“I… I… I don’t understand? How…” John shook his head in bewilderment, his sandy hair flipping in its ‘I work from home and wear vans as dress shoes’ way, and turned away for a second to hide the moisture that was beginning to cloud his vision.
“I don’t know. And yet, here it is. I haven’t had an irregular cycle since IVF, and have never in my life had a positive pregnancy test; not even when I was on all of those hormones. I can’t explain it either.”
“It’s a miracle.” John declared, fully aware of the irony of this statement. Neither he nor his wife had talked of God in any tangible way for years. Not since the last failed round of IVF and subsequent tests had confirmed what they suspected all along, Shira was infertile. It didn’t have to do with hormones or blood sugar or an inhospitable womb - she had a genetic abnormality in her eggs. Every egg sampled was the same and, according to their fertility doctors, every egg she carried contained the same ‘self destruct’ sequence coded in its DNA.
It wasn’t as if they were anti-god. Both scientists in their right - he, a master of computer languages working for the leading AI startup in the country, she in her first post doctoral position in virology - they neither believed nor didn’t. They simply didn’t give it any thought.
Although as Shira had been raised by a Hindu mother and secular Jewish father and John spent his formative years as a Mormon in the mountains of Utah, they had certainly had their fill of gods and goddesses growing up. This though, this was something neither had ever believed possible. Science had proven them incapable of reproducing, or at least her. Now how, no - WHY, this happened was foremost in both of their minds as John’s words weigh heavy in the space between them.
…
Of course it would be a Monday.
Shira sat on her stool in the kitchen, willing herself to keep down the dry toast she was feebly chewing. As the nausea broke over her, pressing her head against the cool granite countertop was the best she could do to slow the wave. Her medication was lagging this morning and it was taking everything she had to stay put, controlling the urge to lean across the bar top and vomit into the sink. The moment quickly passed and she found herself able to peel herself into an upright position, this bite less repugnant than the last. She would be fine now, perhaps even that yogurt in the fridge… Her thoughts of food were cut short as John came into the kitchen. Fresh from his morning post-run shower, the sight of him made her sigh with contentment. Here, now, they were FINALLY going to be a family - even if the little brat inside of her was doing its best to make her miserable.
John stepped behind her and leaning over, grasped her shoulders in his hands and made as if to kiss her. Instead, he ducked his head forward and playfully took a bite out of the remaining toast in her hand. Sputtering at the dry texture and bland taste, he made a wry face and she giggled at him.
“How on earth do you eat that?? It’s exactly how I imagine stale plywood would taste. No wonder you look so downcast every morning!”
“Ha ha. Very funny love, you can blame your future offspring for my new culinary tastes.” - She shot back at him, pointing to her only slightly rounded belly to make the point. - “Hopefully this is only temporary. The doctor says for most women it clears up after the first trimester. If this child is at all normal and not a mutant than…”
She stopped mid-sentence as if hearing her own words for the first time. “IF this child is…” - was a lot to fathom. They were scheduled for their genetic testing in 2 days and she was dreading hearing anything other than happy news. After years of wanting this so hard; and then, giving up entirely before being presented with this miraculous conception - the words ‘what if’ were banned from their conversations. They hadn’t publicly spoken of the pregnancy to anyone. Not her mother still in NYC nor their friends at work or otherwise. John never talked to his family (religious differences) and so it didn’t come up; their secret a warm sacred thing held between them until… well until the time was right and they were ready to share their joy with the rest of the world. After all, miracles have their own time lines of expression - just like genes - and all would be revealed eventually if everything went according to plan.
Thank you for reading my words. This is the beginning to a piece I began 4 years ago which I will be posting in serial over the coming months. It will be chapters punctuated by backstory pieces and other content as I go. If you enjoy it, please subscribe, share or leave a comment below.
~Anjuli