The Almost Archer Sisters by Lisa Gabriele

Author:Lisa Gabriele [Gabriele, Lisa]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 978-0-307-37491-2
Publisher: Doubleday Canada
Published: 2008-03-21T16:00:00+00:00

TYPICALLY, PERFECTLY, BEAU landed on bended knee and said, “Make me happy, Georgia Peach, and be my beloved wife.” I went, “Yeah, okay.” I wanted to wait until the baby was born, but four months later we got married at the Catholic church in town, the one to which we belonged, though had stopped attending after Nana Beecher left for good. Before agreeing to the ceremony, Beau and I had to sit through a series of courses on how couples under Christ should function. It was fun actually, and it made us both a little horny. After the ceremony everyone came back to the farm for a small reception in the back yard: Lucy and Leo, the Rosarios and the bachelor brothers, some of my friends from school, and Beth, who took me shopping for maternity wear the next day.

I had finals, so we took our disastrous camping honeymoon in Grand Bend two weeks later. It took Beau hours to set up the tent, while I sat and bitched, too tense to relax, worried my water would break in the night even though I was barely six months pregnant. We lasted two nights away, and I realized I wasn’t much of a leaver. That was Beth’s talent. Growing up, Beth cultivated the fantasy of throwing a hat in the air in the middle of Broadway, while I priced cotton sheets in the Sears catalogue, mail-order, as even driving into Windsor seemed like too much of a trek to me. I ignored her florid descriptions of what her life was like living away from us, because when she talked like that it made me feel like I was built wrong, like I was a house with no front windows.

And in those years I hadn’t traveled the world, hadn’t done anything important or even interesting, but I had given birth to two sons, three years apart. And though there was nothing remotely immaculate about Sam’s conception in the kitchen that day, he was my little savior, my godsend. He gave me purpose, that squalling blob of a boy who latched to my breast with such urgency I thought he’d turn the rest of my body inside out through my nipples.

As for Jake’s conception, I had read how you could time and calibrate sex to make a girl. And I’ll admit I wanted one. I read about vitamins you could take and positions you could initiate. While I was pregnant, the baby rode low on my front, and knowing women would press their palms to my belly at the A&P, swearing that he was a she. Are you nauseous and moody, they asked. I was. So you already have a boy? I did. So you’re likely stuffed with double the amount of estrogen, they said. A girl, they said, such good news. I blithely installed a pink bed frill around Sam’s old bassinet, because what if they were right?

When Jake was born, I was impressed. To keep that penis of his intact, he’d probably battled off a lot of magic, menace, and wishes in my womb.

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