Rain Must Fall

Going To Be Okay

"She has the care of a mother, the love of a sister, a prostitute in bed. Who is she?"
― Bangambiki Habyarimana, The Great Pearl of Wisdom

May, 1976

I stood under the faint, stained light inside the red phone box, trifling through my black leather handbag for coins. I always kept a reserve in a small, bright yellow coin purse for emergencies, but the light was so terrible that thus didn't want to be found. I stopped and wiped under my eyes, continuing my search until I finally hit the jackpot. I was shaking as I unzipped it, taking out small silver coins. They felt cold in my palm as I put the purse back and held the coins, positioning them in my hand. One by one I dropped them in, picking up the phone and slowly pressing in my phone number. The ringing sound from the receiver seemed so loud it hurt my ears, but then again every sound was magnified when you're scared.

"Please." I whispered, wiping my face with my jacket sleeve. Finally, I heard the voice that I'd needed.

"May house."

I burst into tears again, using my arm to support my head to rest against the top of the coin slot.

"Lucy, honey? Is that you? Where are you?" Brian asked. I managed a nod and swallowed down.

"Lucy, what happened?"

"He hit me, daddy. I wanna come home, I'm so scared." I choked on every word.

"Where are you, Ellie?  I'll come and get you."

"I don't know." I cried, putting my face against the cold metal.

"Tell me what you see and we can figure it out, okay? Stay calm, no one can hurt you."

"There's a small bus shelter. And there's graffiti all over it. It's the one we go past to get to school. Where that old lady sits and never gets on."

"I know exactly where you are. I'm on my way, honey. Do you want me to put Chrissie on the phone until I get there? Just so she knows you're safe?" I nodded and said "yeah", listening for Chrissie.

"Brian's left the house. He's on his way, Lucy. You're going to be okay." She reassured, pulling her dressing gown tighter.

"You don't have to talk, Elle. Just stay on the line so I can hear you."

I stood, one arm across my stomach and the other holding the phone up, in a double-breasted winter jacket, the fluffy fake fur collar keeping me warm. I kept crying lightly, using my hand to hold my hair from my face. I waited, sniffing to make sure she could still hear me. I sat on the ground, the cord barely reaching me. I slumped down and folded my knees to my chest.

I think about that memory every time I see a bus shelter with graffiti. We drove past one on our way home from the hospital, and I couldn't help but wonder how many girls endured that experience in a telephone box.

We arrived home and the first thing I did was go to the bedroom and lay on the bed. I wanted to sleep, but Opus was very soon due for a feed, so my needs would just have to wait. My chest was sore, the way it does when you're first starting out, and I just didn't feel like breastfeeding again. This child had taken everything else from me, I deserved my boobs. Roger carried Opus around the house and even though she was quite sedate and unable to understand, he took her on a narrated house tour. First, he opened the slider to the 'kids compound' as he called it and went into the giant square room. He had been wonderful enough to install a rope swing that let myself or Henry swing around, holding on to faded white attached to the ceiling. The rest of the room was so far empty, as we were still deciding what to put in it. The room closest to the door was Henry's, which Freddie had painted, I had chosen the decor, and Roger had installed everything. He had pale blue walls and galactic curtains that featured spaceships and green aliens. Freddie had painted the Fun In Space alien on his wall, since he loved it so much and had taken to calling it 'Smellborp'.

"This is your brother's room, and I can tell you will be yelled at to leave this room a lot over your lifetime."

Next was Opus's room, which was pastel yellow with black curtains to really block out the light when closed. She had a plain white wooden crib, a changing table completely stocked with all the essentials, a wardrobe that only had white growth suits, waiting to be filled. There's was a dark wood rocking chair next to the door, the one I had used with Henry so many times. The one Roger sat in when I left him.

"This is your room, my baby girl. You'll be sleeping in my room, but this is your very own room. And that chair, it's been through a lot. And it now lives here, too."

They left after a few minutes and closed the big rolling door, moving down the hallway to their left. They went past the guest room and en suite and came to our bedroom, which held a king bed, the dresser table from our old house, two night stands, and a white lacy bassinet. I was lying on the bed, taking in the smell of our sheets and forgetting the hospital crispness. Our sheets were messy, and that's how I liked it.

"And there's mummy, who probably smells a lot better than me."

"Mummy's not in the mood right now. Can the tour of the stars homes come back later?" I begged, rolling over to face the window.

"Sure baby. I'll come and get you when she needs feeding." Roger excused himself and closed the door, moving on to go back to Opus's bedroom for a small nap. He sat in the wooden chair and undid his shirt, remembering that the nurse said skin time was good for her.

"My baby girl, you have no idea what we went through to have you. Well, I don't think I had to go through that much. Your mum went to hell and back."

__________\\__________

"Ope's asleep in her room. Did you wanna tell me what's wrong?" Roger asked, opening our bedroom door and stepping in. I rolled onto my back and sat up against the plush white headboard, Roger sitting in front of me.

"It's so stupid."

"I bet it's not."

"It's my boobs. I feel like when I breastfeed, I won't be able to think of them as sexy anymore. I mean, I love it when you touch em and shit and if Opus is mungin down and getting milk from them, they'll just feel unsexy."

"Not stupid. Incredibly valid. Truth be told, you're always gonna be the sexiest human being alive in my eyes. Hell, a lil bit of lactation while we're banging won't bother me at all." Roger joked, crouching over to me.

"I love you. I wish I said it more. I'm so happy I have you." I said softly, kissing him. Roger took the invisible invitation and pulled me down slightly by my thigh and kissing me deeper. And then Opus started crying from her bedroom.

"Do you need me to go?" Roger asked, his head on my shoulder.

"I think I can handle this one"

Roger rolled himself onto the bed so I could get up. I started to rush as she wailed, feeling the need comfort her and touch her again. I went into the dark room and picked her up, reassuring her that mummy was there.

I watched her hands curling up and then splay out as I picked her up. She was so much heavier than Henry was, mainly because she was actually born on time. Her dark eyes opened as I looked at her, her mouth open.

"Baby Opus. Shhh." I soothed, sitting us down on the rocking chair. I paused for a moment and reflected on my conversation with Roger, and then finally opened my shirt and freed one breast from the elastic cotton prison of a crop top. I found it strange, how the sensation was different. When Roger was doing what Opus was, it was welcome to the pleasure factory. With Opus, it was something powerful and motherly. After we finished, I purged her and cleaned up the vomit, and took her with me back to my bedroom.

"See, honey? It's all going to be okay." Roger smiled, adjusting himself so I could sit against him while Opus balanced between my thighs. She seemed to love the soft cotton of my maternity harem pants, playing with the excess in her hands. I was snuggled up in a singlet top and unzipped hoodie, comfortable. Roger sat next to me in his pyjama pants and a basic black tee, ready for relaxation. We needed to unwind.

I had one hand on Roger's lower arm and another on Opus's belly, still and gentle. I wanted to stay there forever and never have to think again.