His right hamstring extends farther down than the left as he strains to find the right angles and positions in downward dog pose.
She steals a glance, stifles a smile at his visible effort to make his body conform to an unfamiliar position. Her smile is not malicious; she loves him for working so hard on something that comes so easily to her.
He will smile that same smile, in church, his voice clear and bright ,while she struggles trying to out-sing the group of blue-haired ladies who always seem to have arrived just before them. They are side by side, her heels rest easily on the floor behind her, his clear a few inches.
On the way home, later that night, they speak quietly. Excited at his increasing flexibility, they also speak of their upcoming trip to Greece, planned for later in the summer. They speak of having children.
What a good father he will make, she says, just as he is thinking the same thing about her. What a perfect mother she will make, he says. The couple talks about how cute their babies will look, but do not discuss when exactly they plan to begin having any.
At home, in the dark warmth of post-coital bliss, he cups her face in his hands, calls her by one of his many pet names he has for her, and is content.
The woman listens to her husband’s breathing, and, hearing it become regular and deep, knows he is asleep. Getting out of bed quietly, she reaches to turn on a small lamp, but a sudden break in the clouds lets in enough light from the full moon for her to see. She turns to the side, looking at her naked body in the mirror, running her hands over the soft skin of her stomach, wishing for something to be growing inside. She stands there, knowing she should go back to asleep, and, after admiring her slender physique one last time, does.
The Aegean sea glistens in the distance, just beyond the dry scrub covering the top of the small hill they have just climbed. She can see that his feet are dusty from the climb, and can feel the powdery soil covering her own. They stand there, holding each other, looking down at the twisting streets of the small town, at the winding alleys and small outdoor cafes that they have grown to love over the past week, and are at peace. There is no need for words, for fear that they could shatter the perfection of Them at that moment in time.
Later that evening, in the clear light of the full moon, after a dinner of fresh seafood, bread dunked in olive-oil and garlic, and fresh greens, they make love three times. Neither of the two notice how often they make love, up until the moment when the rising sun blinds them at the moment of orgasm.
The sun is high when they awake, and they are famished. They are also late for their flight, and just barely reach the gate, carrying one last packet of food from an ancient street vendor named Ander.
The woman awakes, nauseous again. After the second day of vomiting, she makes an appointment with the doctor for the next day.
“Please have a seat,” the doctor says in a soothing tone. Panic shoots up her spine, the hair standing out on her neck and arms. “We have done some tests, and discovered the reason for your nausea these past few days.”
“Well, what is it,” the woman asks, ”can you give me something to make it go away?’
“It’s not that kind of sickness,” he says. ”Please, it’s nothing bad, stay seated. Mary, you’re pregnant.”
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