“I need to tell you something.”
“What’s that?”
There was that worry back in her voice.
“I can’t have kids.”
There was a gasp followed by silence. “You mean you don’t want to have kids.”
“Yes. I mean, I don’t want to have kids so much that I made sure I couldn’t have kids.”
“Jacob, what are you saying?”
“I’m telling you that when I was twenty-five years old, I had a vasectomy because I never want to bring children into this world.”
A part of me wanted to apologize to her because as much as I abhorred the idea of having my own children, I could absolutely see her as a doting and loving mother. Nothing at all, like the one I’d had. And that still didn’t make me want children.
“Jacob?” she called after a long pause.
“Yes?”
“I don’t want children, either.”
“You’re not just saying that, are you?” My shoulders sagged in relief but I still had to ask.
“No. I’ve told you I have an IUD.”
“Yeah, but I thought that was just for birth control until you were ready to have kids.”
“I’ll never be ready to have kids. I don’t want to have kids. Never have.”
I shook my head, still trying to wrap my mind around the idea of a woman as caring, loving, and yes, gracious, as she was, not wanting to be a mother.
“I’ve cared for people since I can remember. I believe it’s what I was born to do on this Earth, but being a mother isn’t the only way I can care for others. I have my career and family. That’s enough for me.”
My body filled with the alleviation of the burden of wondering whether Grace and I would truly work if she wanted kids and I didn’t. But the words coming from her were a balm to that worry. And the firmness at which she stated them, assured me that she wasn’t just trying to appease me. She meant it.
“Sing for me.”
“Are you serious?”
“As hell. I haven’t heard your voice in fourteen days and …” I pressed a button on the phone to check the time, “twelve hours, and it’s been even longer since I’ve heard you sing.”
There was laughter on the other end of the phone. “You’re going to get in trouble if you stay on the phone too long.”
“Well worth it. I want to hear you sing.”
She pushed out a heavy breath and I knew I’d already won this little battle.
“Any special requests?”
“Yeah, that song with my name in it. The one you sung to me before.”
“Oh, ‘Jacob’s Song’. Okay.”
She inhaled, and this time I could tell it was preparation for the notes that would spill from her lips.
I relaxed even more with each passing word. Though the phone was on speaker, I held it up to my ear so I wouldn’t miss one syllable. Closing my eyes, I pictured her laying next to me, singing directly to me as her soft hand stroked my face. Just like the first time when she’d sung this song to me. In less than a verse of the song, I was back in her bedroom, just the two of us, free of the bullshit that separated us—my bullshit.
