Bethany Rountree

The Test

And so.
The test is taken
the result seen most clearly
no faint line suggesting possibility
no hint of a need to consult
with a physician
and I
am kneeling in the outhouse
shooing an occasional fly away
from the small cup of urine
ignoring as usual the bees
the spiders
the smell
watching the colors in the windows change.
And that was all.
I gathered the things and headed to the stream
to rinse off
and I was smiling.
Good news.
Good news.
Still
later
something lingers
and I fall quiet.
I heard a woman once say, after my abortion
I wanted a baby more than ever.
It’s like that.
Some small expectation
no guarantee, but a possibility
sending my mind rolling into scenario
guessing how things would work
feeling tinges of doubt, knowing
the bad timing, the change of plans
the pressures it would press
onto a relationship that was just beginning
to breathe.
No.
And last night
leaning against his knees
after going through insurance forms
and small print
we decided, let’s hope it’s negative
really
it’s the best thing
a week, a month, two years from now
I will probably, yes, probably agree.
But right now.
In this small cabin.
Crickets sounding their nightly rhythm
the evening falling cooler
as the season moves towards its autumn shift
I reach for my sweater,
and feel cheated.
Earlier
telling him the news
we head upstairs to nap
and I am in need of kisses
then turn away to sleep.
And when I wake
I devour him
for the basic reason of the act
listening to the voices
saying
make me pregnant.

(first published in WNC Woman in April 2006)

Bethany Rountree is a writer who lives in the mountains of Celo, North Carolina.

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October 2007

Melinda Blount
Frank DeCanio
Bobbi Dykema
Taylor Graham
John Grey
Don Kloss
Alicia Matheny
Pam Pignataro
Jeremy Rich
Bill Roberts
Bethany Rountree
Tom Sheehan
Kelsey Upward

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