The adult me shook. It was not the traditional shaking. My stomach convulsed and spasmed. I was drawn up into a tight ball. Each breath came as a gasp before the next contraction of muscle tightening. Barbara cradled me.
“Joceile, what are you feeling? What’s happening?”
I could only reply in short bursts. “I can’t…stop my stomach…from shaking.”
“Is there anything I can do?”
“Nothing I know of….It would be nice…if you could just stay with me.”
“I’ll stay with you as long as I can.”
Barbara stayed and asked me questions helping me stay focused on the here and now and what was going on in the present instead of being swallowed up by the past.
* * * * * * *
(1972)
“Fro, I have something to tell you.”
“Fro, I have something to tell you.”
“What?”
“Sit down.”
“Okay.”
“I’m pregnant.”
“YOU’RE WHAT?!”
“You heard me. I’m pregnant.”
Frobisher’s head spun crazily. “Sally, you can’t be.”
“I am. What do you think?”
His mind raced. “I’m in shock.”
“Get used to it, Fro. You’e a Dad.”
* * * * * * *
There is no smidgen of hope that can erase the past. Only denial can do that. The younger me resolved to put my best foot forward with my father. It wasn’t long before I stubbed my toe.