I stared in the mirror, loathing the image presented; large breasts, hourglass curve at the waist to the wide child-bearing hips. Tears welled up, spilling over, a silent fountain of grief as I felt the warmth of period blood on my thighs; another month with a barren womb. The image I presented to the world was the epitome of a fecund mother but inside the package was a wasteland. I turned from the mirror and stepped into the shower, letting the water wash away the tears and the blood.
As I entered the kitchen, Marco looked over at me. ‘Another negative this month, huh Matera?’ he said.
I pressed my lips together and gave a short nod as I busied myself getting breakfast.
‘Well, take it easy today,’ he said as he grabbed an egg bun, ‘I’ll see you later.’
I felt bruised by his disinterest, I knew conceiving a child together was not as important to Marco as it was to me, but surely he could have offered some comfort.
I wandered around the empty house; a reflection of my empty life. Being a mother was all I had ever wanted; from my childhood baby dolls that I nurtured and cared for, to the children at the nursery where I worked before my marriage. I saw motherhood as the pinnacle a woman could achieve. To bring forth life, to love, to nurture, to teach, and to release into the world to carry forward the stream of life. I felt a failure in my inability to bring my dream to fruition.
I clasped the locket which Marco and I had exchanged on our marriage with the vow we gave each other. I felt saddened by his disinterest, his lack of support for my dream. Once it had been his dream as well, but every month my womb was barren, he became more distant.
I pulled myself together and set off to the market. Even if I couldn’t nurture a foetus in my womb this month, I could still create a warm and homely environment, a place that would welcome a child. The market lifted my spirits. My eyes lingered on the rounded beauty of the glossy eggplants, the warm summer smell of ripe tomatoes, the zucchini’s robust green length, ripe cheeses, and shiny scales of the herrings caught that morning, and the honeyed sweetness of the figs and dates mounded on the tables.
As I was testing the firmness of the avocados, I heard a giggling voice behind the market stall.
‘I’m pregnant, a couple of months along.’
I recognised the syrupy voice of Aletta who used to go out with Marco before we married. I felt a stab of pain on hearing her statement.
‘Have you told him?’
‘Not yet, but I’ll catch up with him when he finishes work at the building site tonight.’
“Do you think he will leave her?’
‘Of course he will. She’s proven to be barren after two years wed and nothing to show. Marco wants a son to carry on his family name, and I will be the one to give him a son. Not that barren cow, Matera.’
The words were a stab to my heart. Marco, unfaithful with Aletta and now she was pregnant. I felt my world begin to spin around as the poison I had just heard seeped under my skin. I felt my hand starting to clench and hurriedly put down the avocado before I bruised it. I quickly turned and headed for home.
As I hurried through the streets, darkness fluttered around the edges of my vision and a susurration beat in my ears. Whispers were all around me, with the murmurs overwhelming my senses with promises of retribution. I burst into my house, slamming the door behind me like a wounded animal seeking shelter. I fell to my knees, arms wrapped around my head as the whispers echoed and rebounded inside my head. A keening emerged from my throat as I rocked on the floor. The pain of betrayal coloured my vision in the darkest shades. Foetus-like I curled up on the entryway floor.
Like ice, the voice scraped across my senses.
‘So important but so impotent.’
It was a shock of cold water to the face; this elegant, arctic voice coming out of my empty house. I uncurled myself to peer through tear-swollen eyes at an impossible sight. Standing before me in my foyer was a veritable god. He was the most beautiful example of the masculine form. My mouth dropped open as my tears dried. He stretched his hand out towards me; tentatively, I lifted my hand towards his. He grasped my hand and drew me to my feet. Next to this beautiful image, I felt tawdry and dull.
He led me into the lounge, and I followed like a lamb, caught up in the dreamlike moment that was unfolding. I sat on the chair he led me to as he gracefully took the chair opposite. Eyes, the gold of a majestic cat started into mine, holding me prisoner, mesmerised by the power sitting opposite me. Once again, the glacial voice surrounded, me penetrating through the fugue I had fallen into.
‘If I could give you your heart’s desire; what would you give in exchange?’ He asked.
I couldn’t wrap my head around what he was asking. All I could hear was Aletta saying the word pregnant.
That voice once again penetrated the layers of my mind.
‘Is not a child your greatest desire?’
‘Who are you?’ I muttered, still focussed on the pain blooming in my heart and womb.
‘The one who can give you what you desire,’ he replied ‘for a small exchange.’
I stared into those golden eyes and pictures formed in my brain. Me pregnant, belly full and round, blooming and filled with joy. A toddler, running around squealing joyfully. A little girl, picking flowers, and cuddling in my lap. Visions of everything I had always wanted danced in my head. Once again, I heard Aletta’s voice, ‘pregnant’ echoing through my heart and soul.
I snapped into focus. ‘What price?’ I rasped, as my mind connected, and I saw myself dancing in the reflective eye of the Devil.
His beautiful lips curved. ‘The price; minuscule.’ He breathed the words in the space between us. ‘Nothing you cannot afford, simply a soul in exchange for your heart’s desire.’
Slowly my mind accepted that the Devil was sitting in my lounge offering me a bargain. A feeling of horror swept through me. I couldn’t do this. My hand clasped the locket at my throat. In my mind, the images of birth and motherhood floated in and out of focus.
‘What would this bargain require?’ I heard the words fall out of my mouth without my intention.
The Devil pulled out a contract. ‘I will fulfil your desire, and in return, your soul will come to me at a specified time that we agree upon.’ His word flowed icily across my fevered thoughts.
I clutched the locket harder, the embossed words engraved on the locket pressing the soft flesh of my palms. An idea began to unfurl in my mind. My desire was for a baby, but with the pain inflicted on me by Aletta’s words, I wanted revenge on Marco for his betrayal of me.
‘We would specify a time frame in which the soul would come to you?’ I asked
‘I can be generous,’ he said. ‘We can negotiate the amount of time to allow you to live with your desire. It could be seven, fourteen, twenty-one or twenty- eight years, you can choose. A codicil is that if you die before the specified time, your soul will come to me at that point.’
‘And I would become pregnant and have my baby,’ I asked?
His beautiful lips curled gently upwards. ‘Immediately on signing, your pregnancy will come into being.’
I stared at him, my mind twisting and turning looking for the catch; weighing out possibilities.
‘I’ll sign, and I want seven years,’ I finally said, clutching the locket tight.
From the inside pocket of his beautifully tailored suit, the Devil pulled out his contract along with a glass pen with blood-red ink. As I took the pen, I felt a prick on my finger and the red ink in the pen began to swirl as my blood entered it. Taking a breath, I read the contract and signed. I passed it back to the Devil and again clasped the locket, a drop of my blood smearing across the engraved words. Before my eyes, the Devil rose elegantly to his feet and disappeared.
I stood up. I had things I needed to do. I entered my kitchen and gathered the ingredients together and prepared dinner for Marco. When he arrived home I had a meal prepared. Following the meal, I set out to seduce Marco into my bed. It didn’t take much; he enjoyed sex at any time.
Copulation for me had only one reason: the prospect of my baby in my arms. As soon as we finished, Marco grunted, rolled over and fell asleep.
I lay in the dark and thought of Aletta’s pregnancy, and the vow of fidelity Marco had broken. I lifted the locket, and my fingers traced the embossed words
Beyond death, you hold my soul in love and fidelity
The Devil would get his soul, but it would not be mine.
Image: SHE Album- It Was Life She Delivered
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