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Gevina danced to salsa in her headphones. The music tapped into her mind and her feet. She pretended that the world was perfect and that every moment she was going to be stronger and more self assured. Her brown skin glistened on the open beach. The sun penetrated her hair bleaching the strands to a soft golden brown. Sand forced itself between her toes as she danced gingerly across the beach.
She had taken this vacation to be herself again if only for a few days. She had taken on perfection as a task of her new relationship. She ate infrequently and did crunches on the cold floor of his three bedroom penthouse. Gevina had taken to drinking red wine as almost everything else proved to be unacceptable to him. She had given up pot, cigarettes, and whiskey, all the things that made her life bearable. She had become the woman that every man wanted. Long legs, strong abs, round ass, always polite, always giving, a mother in every way this was the woman he needed, thus the woman she became.
She wasn�t sure when she had lost her sensitivity, her faith and her heart. She thought it may have been the moment she became perfection incarnate. A young black man finely muscled with an island accent brought her a drink, maker�s mark and coke. She sat upon a beach chair, smoked a cigarette and drank the whiskey as she watched young lovers trip and fall on the oven hot sand.
David Byrne sang a song about broken things in her ears. When had she lost her uniqueness in this world of perfection she was not sure. She knew there were better things that had come before this moment in her life. At this moment she was thirty three years old, married to a man that would lose his mind when she left the can opener on the cabinet and two months pregnant with his child. She was still considering abortion and had not yet told him.
The sun felt warm on her skin and she cried for all the things she had lost. Once she had been an artist, a creator of imperfection and dreams all of this had left her in the sterile years she had spent with him. Her dreams and thoughts were no longer valid in his world.
A soft, deep voice invaded her thoughts, �Pretty lady, why you cry? The islands are too beautiful for a lady like yourself to be hurtin� the islands are for happiness and dreams�. She found herself telling a native of about twenty five years about her life and the things she lost and dreams she once had about musicians and artists. He listened intently as if she was the only woman in the world at that moment. He lit a joint and shared it with her, it lightened her spirits
She took a minute to breathe; the sun was starting to set over the ocean as the young man pulled up a chair beside her. He held her hand and told her how god expected imperfections in his children. He stroked her hair. She thought about how long it had been since someone even pretended to care about her thoughts. She hugged the young man and retired to her hotel room.
She sat on the side of the bed and began removing her shoes. She felt wetness between her thighs and looked down, she realized she was bleeding. Blood was running down her legs wetting the fresh, white linens. She ran in the bathroom and started running a hot bath. As she sat in the bath the water turned red, she was cramping like she never had in her life. Blood clots passed out of her body and a round liquid filled sack, she burst the sack and inside she found a still moving mal-formed fetus. She quickly flushed it down the toilet and poured herself a glass of wine.
�Perhaps there are stranger things in this world.� She said as the wine washed in her mouth.