The Captain and the Osequito - III - Welcome to Georgia

 "Now I just have to take you through these questions and then get a positive test from you for our intake process.  I'm real sorry, it's just sumptin' they make us do."

I nodded my head and took a seat in one of the many chairs in the large sunny room.  The woman placed herself in a seat across from me - a healthy distance of over 6 feet - and I began to fidget nervously with my new unicorn mask that was way too big.  I cursed myself silently and made a mental note (probably for the 20th time since this damn pandemic began) that I need to start buying child-size for myself just like I do for my work clothes and PPE when I'm on the boats.  God did I miss the boats already.

"Alrighty so, we like to look at our clients profiles before they come in and just do a quick look over - so I know a little bit bout who I'm goin' be talking to - and then we start with the big things.  Now I am so sorry I must bring this up... but one thing that stuck out to me was the abuse.  Can you tell me a lil bout that?"

"Most of the rapes and assaults happened in my early twenties." I said curtly, daggers in my eyes and venom in my voice.  

The woman fidgeted uncomfortably.  

My cheeks flushed with embarrassment at myself, at my own anger that this woman had nothing to do with and in no way deserved.  Damn hormones. The woman opened her mouth to speak but I cut her off before she could ask the next question on the list, that it seemed, we both were beginning to dread.  "I was a system kid..." I said hurriedly, quietly. "... with a bad habit of running away.  The world isn't nice to a girl like that - never mind New York City - and I didn't let it go or let myself change for a long time.... That's all."

The woman nodded politely. "Now the physical, verbal and mental abuse, that occurred before Child Services - I assume it was Child Services? - Took you?"

"Yes."

"Previous pregnancies... No living children?"

"Yes, no children."

"But the miscarriages, it says here you've had 5?  When do they usually occur?"

"Between 5 and 7 weeks."

"Do you have any medical issues that you know of?"

I was tempted to roll my eyes, knowing damn well that she was looking at my "medical issues" on the iPad on her lap, but I took a little breath instead and adjusted my too-big unicorn mask - maybe more to hide my expression than protect myself from any Coronavirus that was floating around.  Cool it, Miranda. I silently reprimanded myself. Cool it you hormonal psychopath. "Yes..." I finally said.

The woman leaned back and stared at me with an encouraging expression on her face.  I sighed.

"I'm on the Autistic Spectrum." I said quickly. "And have psoriasis and PTSD."

"Medications?"

"I take Prozac and Clonazepam for the PTSD."

"Yes we were wondering about the Clonazepam-"

"-I already spoke to my doctor and had it lowered to a safe dosage as soon as I found out I was pregnant.  He said the Prozac was fine at the dosage I've been on."

"Oh good! Yes Prozac is absolutely fine, I just needed to make sure about that klonopin.  Now this doctor, where is he?"

"He's in New York City, I've been seeing him for almost ten years and he has had patients give birth on both medications successfully."

"Gosh, you are just on top of things aren't you!?" The woman exclaimed. "That is just so good."

I was starting to lose my patience, and my focus, and maybe some hope too - questions about the past do that to me.  My stomach was starting to spoil itself again and I could feel a mean fart building up.

"Let's see what's next here? You...." The woman trailed off.  I don't think I was even looking at her anymore.  I was probably looking out the window, eyes searching for a bird, even though the gauzy curtains were drawn.  Bird-watching.  Another old habit.  But that's one I've never let go of, and for the sake of hope and sanity... well I hope I never do.  The woman shifted in her seat catching my attention again.  She flipped the iPad up at her self, stared at it for a second, then smiled, shook her head, and rested it face down beneath her elbows as she leaned towards me.

"What am I doing?" She finally said.

I stared at her, confused.

"You've been through this before haven't you?" She asked, but not to me.  It felt like she was asking it to the whole sunny room, the four other white christian ladies sitting behind the glass in the lobby past the walls and closed doors, god above even.  She pushed back a strand of long brown hair that had fallen from behind her ear and continued. "No... I know you have - I mean I have it all here, I don't need you to tell me, I already read it.  New York, Massachusetts, Pennsylvania, just with this pregnancy alone!  And... this is the longest a pregnancy has ever made it for you, isn't it?"  She did not wait from my response.  "I can't imagine how tired you are, never mind the stress.  My, Lord.  And you seem no stranger to travel... or strangers asking questions."

"Yeah" I snorted with a dark little chuckle.

"Yet seem so good, so..."

"Well adjusted?" I offered.

"Yes! I like that.  I never heard that one before."

"Must be a northern thing." I shrugged, thinking of all the psychologists that prodded at my brain when I was a little kid in New York City. "They say it there all the time."

"Must be." She said staring off.  We both sat there quietly for a moment, then she looked down at her iPad again, and fell apart into a fit of giggles that doubled her to her knees before she picked her head back up suddenly, beaming at me.  "Can... Can I tell you something?" She finally gasped.

"Yeah?" I said, starting to feel a smile creep across my own face.  

"Your Baby's Father's Name." She laughed, still catching her breath.  Suddenly I realized where this was going and began smile too, that big hood-rat shit-eating grin I've still got after all these years, ear to ear. "My lord we have never, EVER, had somebody answer that question with "Shit Head" before!"  By now I was laughing too, holding my little baby belly with one hand and struggling to keep the stupid too-big mask balanced on the bridge of my nose with the other. "Why I had to call all the ladies over just to see it!" She continued. " 'Why looky here this girl said her baby-dad's name is SHIT HEAD!' Oh we laughed honey.  I've been wanting to write that for some of the girls that come in here for years... but I guess we southern girls are a little more reserved... Not that you offend us!"

"No offense taken." I said cordially, still laughing myself.

"You... you made our day!  I was going to walk in here and say 'Now mister Sheet Hee-ahd, Where is he now?' but i just couldn't do it!"

"You should-a" I replied with a mischievous grin.  All the hostility, and nervousness, and worry melted away as we sat there and laughed together - two strangers from two totally different worlds - in a big old sunny room.  She dabbed at her eyes delicately with her finger tips.  I pushed my whole palm through my short, unkempt, hair.  She was pretty.  She was thin - but healthily so - with a pale face, shinning eyes, and long brown hair.  Maybe she was a little older than me, maybe she only seemed that way because she was the one sitting in neat business clothes with an iPad on her lap, and I was the one sitting in the only clothes left that fit, with a baby in my belly who I could only be 85% sure who the father was.  I wondered what she thought of me, and then just as quickly brushed the thought away.  Who the fuck cares anymore? I thought, and the thought felt like a bird, up and flying away, in the trees I couldn't see behind the gauzy curtains.

"Oh I guess what I'm trying to say..." She finally said, laughter still glittering her words. "What I'm try to say is... oh I just don't know!"  She shook her head and giggled again.

"Well..." I said slowly, feeling all of New York in me rush to the top of my throat and brim my eyes, like a crowd to the doors of the 4, 5, 6, at rush hour - any mid town stop.  "What you're saying is, you've never had a New York City raised, female mariner walk in the doors before."  I leaned back, proud of myself.

"No!" She cried out as a fit of laughter spilled from both of us again. "No we most certainly have not!  WELCOME TO GEORGIA!!" 

I think that was the moment when I finally decided it:  I like it here.