Nut

Nut watched over us that night, holding the stars suspended above us.  We drove south on 101 under that expansive sky, first-date shyness still between us.  My stomach churned with anxiety, too-spicy  saag paneer,  and birth control pills working their unnatural magic.  I held my breath and prayed that the worst would not happen.  You were talking about football; how I tried to hang onto your every word, wanting to distance myself from my inner turmoil.  At 3rd St. I could hold back no longer.  We exited quietly, parking along a dark, deserted street.  I left the car silently, not wanting you to see my shame.  I began to pace back and forth on the sidewalk, waiting for the inevitable.  Twice, I thought,  Surely this is it.  I clutched at a skinny city tree for support, noticing how it was tethered to two posts in the ground.  Poor city trees have no freedom.  But in moments like this, we will reach for anything alive.  I closed my shaking hands around its thin branches, afraid I would break them.  I threw my head back, seeking comfort among the stars.  The sky was full of light pollution, but the brightest stars still shone through.  Nut swallowed the sun and gave birth to the moon.  I prayed to Her then, though I did not know what for.  My stomach lurched. I dug my nails into the small tree, silently asking for forgiveness and support.  Turning my face to the sky, I breathed in starlight.  Still nothing.  I turned away from tree and sky, thinking perhaps it was not to be.  Then the sudden awareness of you behind me, your hands resting lightly upon my shoulders, holding me up.  I thanked Nut as I vomited, letting go into the darkness.  Since that night, I’ve been giving birth to stars.