Promiscuous Ocean

An octopus lies in your womb. Each tentacle gropes for a different father. But the sea of possibilities spreads off, vast and glumly blue.

You met Clarence at a coffee shop. He was hunched over a laptop, tickling the keys with strange zeal for what he later told you was a business magazine article. Right as he was describing the featured company's C.E.O., you slipped him a scrap sheet of paper. You stepped out the door a fraction of a second later. In your finest cursive, you had written your first name, phone number, and dimensions. Instead of dotting each letter 'i,' you drew a balloon heart, complete with the cartoon reflection. He called you within two minutes. His voice cracked on the phone.

George used to deliver your mail before he started working at the grocery store down the street. You needed cinnamon flavored baked beans, but the store didn't seem to have any. When you asked George, he slunk into the back of the store and brought you the last can left. Then he pushed your overflowing cart to the register for you. He popped behind the counter and began scanning your loaf of bread, celery, apples, butter, vanilla ice cream, parmesan cheese, olive oil, macaroni, cake mix, milk, doughnuts, pre-mixed salad, spaghetti, eggs, bacon bits, frozen pizza, American cheese, pears, pork chops, cream cheese, icing, frozen lasagna, tomato sauce, muffins, and cilantro. But he gave you the baked beans free. You smiled when you noticed. George smiled back, eyes lingering on your face until he finally asked what you were doing that night.

Frank, inebriated and dressed in plaid, approached you at a bar. You asked him if he always resembled a lumberjack. He asked you if you always resembled a goddess. You grinned. He offered to buy you a drink, but you said Hollywood-imposed gender roles bored you. So, you bought him a drink instead. Two martinis and two hours later, you walked through the door of his apartment. His covers were plaid, too.

When you first shook hands with Ben at the neighborhood block party, you knew. His firm grip made you quiver, though, with your winter coat, nobody else noticed. He quickly grabbed his wife's hand after shaking yours, but refused to remove his gaze. Ben seemed fascinated with your hair. You were fascinated that you managed to discuss local property values and construction for so long. When you began complaining about the eye-sore the Cabells added to the back of your house, Ben's wife spotted her friend Sarah. She scampered off in her rodent-like fashion to chat about Tupperware. You and Ben disappeared to a more private location.

Cameron volunteered at the county library while studying English and History at the nearby university. He wore Coke bottle glasses, read six novels a week, and owned five shirts. When day, while he re-shelved Georgia O'Keefe books at the back of the building, you scooted up to him, pretending you wanted to look at them. Then, in a whisper, you asked him if he ever had a girlfriend. He blushed and said no. You asked if he had ever been kissed, to which he also replied no. A silence hovered between the two of you before you pecked him on the lips. A moment later, you began unbuttoning his pants.

Norman has cut your brother's hair since you were in grade school. You used to tease him for always giving Jerry bowl-cuts. The one time your salon was closed because the owner was ill, your mother took you to Norman's. You screamed. Norman spared you from a bowl-cut, but you never forgave him from cutting your bangs too short. Twenty years later, you sat in that exact same chair and demanded that he try again. The barbershop was officially closed, but he sat you down and tied a bib around your neck. When he finished, you grinned at your reflection in the mirror. Then you jumped up and threw your arms around him...tight.

Mark served you a Hawaiian-themed hamburger with grilled vegetables and steak fries on the side. Then he refilled your glass of cranberry juice--no extra charge. He brought you extra napkins and every condiment in the house. When you took your last bite, he plopped down in the chair across from you and questioned "why a pretty lady like you is all alone on a Friday night." You made up a story about having just moved into the area and not knowing anybody. He said he could change that. You took another sip of your juice and beamed. You said that would be nice.

Richard sat next to your in your graduate Paranormal Psychology class. You were auditing the class mainly to meet men, having already earned your B.A. in English and Film and your M.F.A. in Theatre Pedagogy. You never understood the people who bothered to earn two Master's degrees in anything. By the third session, you and Richard had already started passing notes with little words like "sweetie" and "pumpkin." Sometimes you doodled Teddy bears. He doodled squirrels. You couldn't draw squirrels. He forgave you and invited you to a movie by the sixth class session.

All this was last within the last month. And the pregnancy stick reads positive.