2011 Issue - Santa Fe Community College

Oh God, Oh Jesus, No!
by Kona Morris
Anytime I’m around this many women, especially adult, motherly,
earth-tone wearing women, some with gurgling babes on lap, some brimming
pots of estrogen just waiting for the right little tadpole to jump in, I
get cold sweats, dizzy, blurry-eyed claustrophobia. As if the gaseous
fumes exuding from their soft-pinned heads take up the rest of the space
in the room, filling up all around me like the innards of a poisonous balloon.
Their sisterly nag walks, bleeding axe wounds, nutritious home
cooked meals, clogged Maybelline blackheads, expensive shampoo. I
have to get out of here. Eighteen months overdue (again) or not. I look
down at my core and grieve at it for making me need the same things
they do.
I’m about a half a foot from the door, on my way out, when I hear
the voice of a heavy-thighed nurse, volunteer, whatever, call out, “Cara
— Caralee Robinson.” I stand frozen, plagued with indecision. Responsibility
versus tremendous humility and pain. I’m governed by the latter,
continuing with my final step to the door. “Excuse me, aren’t you Caralee”
She’s followed me. Fucktoast. This shouldn’t be allowed, this
kind of intrusion, this break in the anonymity code. “Yes,” I squeeze out,
much to my own dismay, a million fake names rolling around in my head
that I could have claimed instead. “Well, it’s time for your appointment,
dear, please follow me.” Yes, but I’m on my way out, I’ve just remembered
something terribly important I have to do right now, I’m sorry but
I have no choice but to reschedule. Only I’m not saying that, only my
feet are following her, carrying me off to a room I don’t want to be going
to.
After the initial heart-beating blood-pressure tests and waiting on
the little cushioned platform for what feels like an hour in this no-clock
room, a four foot tall white haired woman with fur on her chin and a full
body lab coat comes through the door.
“Well, why don’t you have your gown on by now,” she looks down at
my file, “Caralee”
Santa Fe Literary Review 37