Chapter 13:
Love’s Spearhead
VIOLETTE HAD THOUGHT THAT life would get harder, heavier, more painful. She thought that Yulan’s smile would have the same hint of melancholy as hers when they talked about the future together. After all, a woman’s duty was to pass down the bloodline.
But who cares?
As Yulan smiled gently, the sweet scent of tea embracing them, he didn’t push Violette toward any choice. He just put everything…everything in her hands. Whether good or bad, whether the answer was yes or no. He said not a word about it, waiting for Violette to speak.
“I…don’t know.”
“All right.”
“I don’t think…that I don’t want children. That’s certainly not how I feel. If I held my own baby in my arms, I know that I’d be happy.”
“Uh-huh?”
“But then why…why can’t I imagine it at all…?”
Rosette smiled when she held her baby. Merely superimposing her daydreams onto that image was enough to cause Violette to assent. She could’ve avoided the difficulty of mulling over whether she really wanted a child. When she painted a future in her mind in which she held a soft bundle in her arms and smiled with Yulan, she couldn’t even imagine how happy she’d be.
Her flat belly would slowly grow round, she’d get morning sickness and anemia, she’d sometimes get moody and cry for no reason, and she’d pray every day for her baby to be healthy and strong. That was a common vision of happiness that you saw everywhere… Yet Violette couldn’t seem to see it for herself. The happy mother she envisioned never bore her face, however hard she tried.
“Of course I don’t not want a child. I’m not refusing to give birth either. But no matter how hard I try…I just can’t bring myself to desire one. I just can’t…imagine myself loving one.”
Somebody caresses her bulging belly. Somebody hugs her fussy baby close. Somebody caresses her baby’s hair. Somebody…somebody…somebody. But not me. Somebody else. A faceless woman…showers love on her faceless baby. Some man stands beside her. A tall man with brown hair… A faceless man.
Till death did them part, in sickness and in health, they’d vowed to spend their lives together. Violette would make Yulan happy, and Yulan would make Violette happy. The love they’d pledged each other would never change as long as they lived.
They loved each other and had become husband and wife. Yet no matter how hard she tried, starting a family was the one thing Violette couldn’t imagine.
“They’re wrong,” Yulan said. “A child isn’t a symbol of love.”
“Huh…?”
“We know that, Vio. You and me both.”
Falling in love, growing attached to one another, becoming husband and wife, and transforming that love into another human life. That was the norm—a baby not born under those conditions was the anomaly. And a child had to be loved unconditionally to thrive.
That was why I assumed I could embrace love. I thought I could…
“Listen, Vio… If I had a baby, I wouldn’t love it.”
Yulan’s voice flowed softly like a gentle river. In a kind tone that could never hurt anybody, he bared his soul. His was the face of a young man who knew defeat, a boy who had nothing, a baby abandoned by everybody.
“I don’t care for anyone. I don’t even care for myself. So I wouldn’t care for my child either. I’m not interested in one. You’re the only one I care for, Vio. You’re the only one I can love. So I really don’t care about anything else. I couldn’t love it unless it was your child, Vio.”
Yulan used to find the notion of bearing a child with golden eyes and surrendering it to Claudia ridiculous. If Claudia wanted a golden-eyed child, he should just father his own. But that was only because Yulan couldn’t imagine the child’s mother being Violette. After all, he wouldn’t want a child with anyone other than her.
But then, how would he feel if that child was his and Violette’s? If they parented a baby boy with golden eyes? Just like Yulan, that boy would be taken by adults he didn’t know and raised to be someone else.
If that happened, Violette would grieve. She’d cry and hate herself for letting her baby go. Yulan couldn’t allow that. He could never let anybody take Violette’s baby from her—it would be wrong. He’d never allow any path that made her cry.
But what if Violette didn’t grieve? What if she wanted to let the baby go?
Then he wouldn’t really care either way, as long as she could relinquish the infant easily and forget about it. He could easily imagine himself forgetting it.
“So I really don’t care either way, Vio. If you want a baby, that alone will make me care for it. But, if you don’t want a baby, I don’t need one either.”