It was three weeks later before I went on and said what I had been thinking about every day. It was the last of August. Almost time for Malcolm and me to pack up our baby and go back to Atlanta, Georgia, so he could finish school. It was late in the afternoon, a Saturday. My parents had gone to Aberdeen for the day and left us with the children. The baby was asleep in the crib. My little brothers were outside shooting baskets. Malcolm and I were entwined in each other’s arms. We had been making love for an hour with the fan slowly turning above the bed and the sweet hot August air blowing the curtains against the window frames. I had made him come twice and he had made me come three times and we were tired now. “This is it,” I said. “That’s the last baby I’ll ever have. You know that, don’t you?”

“What? What do you mean? What are you saying now?”

“That’s the only baby I’m ever going to have. If I get pregnant, I’ll have an abortion.”

“No, you won’t.” He sat up in the bed. “Of course you won’t. What would make you say something like that?”

“I can’t stand it. Every time we do it I think I’m going to get pregnant. It scares me to death. I’m not getting cut open again, Malcolm. I can’t stand it. There was blood everywhere. You’ve never seen so much blood. I keep dreaming about it.” He got out of bed and began to search for a cigarette. His body was so goddamn perfect. He could walk around a room naked and let anyone look at him from any angle. He found the cigarettes and lit one.

“You say the goddamnedest things, Rhoda. Of course you won’t abort our child. It’s against the law. You could go to jail.”

“People do it. There are ways. Hand me a cigarette, please.” He lit a second cigarette and handed it to me. “I mean it, Malcolm. If I get pregnant again I’ll have an abortion. I can’t stand it. I just can’t stand the idea of swelling up and dying. Why should I die? I’m only twenty-one years old, for God’s sake. What do you want? You’ve got a son. That’s all the goddamn babies I’m ever going to have.” I was out of bed now, looking for my clothes. I found a pair of underpants and pulled them on, then retrieved my shirt from the floor and shook it out. The baby began to cry. A small cry at first, then a scream. “Go see about him,” Malcolm said.