This Body by Laurel Doud Page A

knees of her accordioned legs —
just where a book should be
— but didn't dispel the secret garden enchantment outside her window.
    She leaned over and rummaged through the bag that she had packed, pulling out the
Complete Works
. She ignored the introduction and the background notes and turned to
A Midsummer Night's Dream
.
    At once she was transported to the city of Athens and the surrounding forest, where lovers flee and are separated, mismatched,
tested, and then put to rights at the end.
    Katharine found the ending curiously interesting. Oberon instructs his fairy troops to bless the bridal beds so their children
will be born without the despised blots such as moles, harelips, and prodigious marks. She wondered why Quince embraced this
play, or Shakespeare at all, for that matter.
Wasn't she despised then
? The one line continued to chant through Katharine's head like a mantra. “Never mole, harelip … nor mark prodigious … shall
upon their children be.”
    Katharine tried to imagine the Bennets in the various roles. Robert seemed more suited as the suave but rather domineering,
self-righteous Duke than the Merry Prankster, Robin Goodfellow, aka Puck. The Duke smirked witty asides to the group of lovers,
now newlyweds, as they watched the play
The Most Lamentable Comedy and Cruel Death of Pyramus and Thisby
performed by the workmen. Katharine laughed at one such remark, “Or in the night, imagining some fear, how easy is a bush
supposed a bear.” She looked down on the hedge again. The moon continued to illuminate the area.
    Not a beast, but a bear. How easy is a bush supposed a bear. I'll be damned
.
    Like father, like son, Puck wasn't right for Robin Goodfellow. It was Quince she thought of when the Merry Prankster dashed
about, streaking the eyes of Queen Titania and one of the lovers with the cupid juice. It was Quince she saw with elfin ears,
crowing with delight as he gave the pompous workman, Nick Bottom, an ass's head.
    She saw Anne not as Thisby, but as Hermia, one of the lovers — the one who was tenacious and resolute.
    This whole family is miscast
.
    As she continued to watch the shadow play below her, she absorbed the tragic love story of Pyramus and Thisby, separated from
each other by their families' hate and the wall that was erected between them. Their planned rendezvous is upset by Cruel
Fate, and they meet — only to die in each other's arms.
    Is it my fate, like Thisby's, to be separated from my love, to be reunited only in death? Only in death? In death
?

    There was a knock on the door, and a voice commanded through it, “Awake. Awake. The morning has chased away the night.”
    It took a moment for Katharine to orient herself; she was reclining stiff and sore on the window seat, the morning sun flooding
in on her face. Then she called without hesitation through the closed door to Quince, “I'll be there anon.”
    Downstairs Thisby's mother was quiet and awkward, and Katharine had to remember why. She felt giddy and light. She was filled
with lions, fairies, and bears.
Oh, my
.
    Thisby's father was aloof, as if he wanted to let her know that he was not pleased.
    Jesus, lighten up, you guys
. “About last night … I'm sorry,” she said to both of them. “I seem to have chronic PMS these days. The mood swings are incredible.
Schizophrenic, even.”
    Anne stopped short with a knife in her hand. “You're not pregnant, are you?”
    That stopped Katharine short too. The giddiness seemed to drain away like sand in a wide-waisted hourglass. “No, of course
not.”
    Of course not? How would you know? You haven't been in this body long enough to know that.
    Well, the way TB looked and lived, she probably didn't even have periods anymore. She can't be pregnant.
    Breakfast proceeded. Her denial was taken at face value.
As if I knew for sure.
    The food smelled only okay to her stomach, but she knew it wasn't the disruption of pregnancy that made it that way.
She can't be pregnant. I can't be