Melody’s Announcement

Melody squirms under the scrutiny, all eyes now on her. With one swift motion she reveals what she’s hiding behind her back. For a moment you look at it confused, it’s some kind of plastic stick. Several of the girls are quicker on the uptake than you. Their response is to squeal in excitement. You look closer.

It’s a pregnancy test, a positive pregnancy test.

You sweep Melody into your arms, lifting her up, passionately kissing her. She responds by flinging her arms around your neck. You disengage so you can look into her boiling blue eyes.

“You’re going to be a mommy,” you tell her.

“You’re going to be a daddy,” is her reply.

You dive in for another kiss. By the time you disconnect and let her down, the rest of the household is around to swamp her with their own hugs, kisses and congratulations. Melody’s turning bright red with all the attention. When’s she free of that you pat the chair next to you to show her where you want her to sit. You want to throw your arms around her and protect her. Not only her, but the baby inside her, your child. You can already feel your love for it overwhelming you, and that love increasing your love for her. You know that child is going to be lucky. It will have a wonderful mother. You’ll try to be the best father possible. And it will have nine other mothers, who’ll love it almost as much as its true mother.

Calm returns slowly. Those with seats and half-eaten meals return to them. Those without find a place to stand. Lucy remains in the middle. When the gossip doesn’t die, she gestures for silence. The others are used to following Lucy’s orders.

“While we’re all here, I want to raise an issue,” Lucy starts into the silence. “I know what you’re all planning on doing as soon as you’re done here, because I’m planning it as well. Melody’s pregnant, we all want to check if we’ve been as lucky. So that we don’t keep disrupting the day with announcements, I propose that you can test whenever you want, but no-one’s announcing their results until the household meeting on Saturday morning.” There’s a few groans of disappointment at that. “If you believe you won’t be able to keep the results secret until then, wait until Saturday morning to do your test. And I’ll arrange doctor’s appointments when all the results have been revealed. Everyone understand?”

The nods come slowly. Everyone’s thinking the same thing. Is Melody the only one? You have deliberately kept away from the girls’ plans on contraception. You have volunteered to use condoms, but they deaden the super orgasms, and all the girls have agreed that’s not acceptable. Instead you pay for the contraceptives, whether it’s pills or devices, without knowing who’s actually taken them. Obviously, you’ll support all the children they’ll have, but you insisted on one thing, only a handful of girls should get pregnant at one time. How they manage that was up to them. You just don’t want all of them pregnant. One or two children will cause a disruption, but you believe you can cope. Seven or eight would cause chaos.

For the rest of lunch there is only one topic of conversation. Kids. The idea to turn the room colloquially known as the nursery into an actual nursery. How it will affect the schedule. The excitement of who else might be pregnant.

Gloria has pulled out her tablet. A few taps and everyone falls silent to hear what she says. “The winners of the first pregnancy announcement are me, Sarka and Anna. The pot will be divided in proportion how much each placed on Melody.”

Of course, Gloria was running a sweepstake on who got pregnant first. She’s the bookie of the house, and you know she runs several sweepstakes. You don’t get involved, not even knowing what the girls are betting on. Most of the bets are based around you. If you got involved, you’d have too much influence on the outcome.

Sybil comes over with a heaped plate for Melody.

“I’m not eating all that,” is Melody’s response.

“You need to keep your energy up, now you’re eating for two.”

A few of the girls laugh. Melody is one of the lightest eaters in the house, but then she is a slip of a woman. You sometimes wonder where she gets all her energy from.