Текст книги "The Woodlands"

Автор книги: Lauren Nicolle Taylor

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Текущая страница: 19 (всего у книги 20 страниц)

How can I do this alone? Everything has been turned around and I no longer know where I am or what I am supposed to be d oing. The guiding light is gone. The gold has turned to lead. I’m sinking and I have no will to fight it. I hate you for leaving me here. I hate you both.

The impatient voice was speaking to me. Less impatient and more irritated. Asking me to get up, could I walk? I didn’t want to walk. I didn’t want to move. The ground was hard and cool. It felt like as good a place as any to give up. I lay with my cheek pressed to it, waiting for the next onslaught of pain to attack me. Hoping it would tear me open and kill me right there.

But it wouldn’t leave me alone. I wanted to sink under water, drown in my grief, but it wouldn’t let me. It pulled me to sitting and tore at my arms. Get up! It rumbled and tightened until I couldn’t stand to lie there anymore. Get up!

Apella approached me, her perfect face shadowed with concern. She seemed far away, turning her head and muttering quietly to these strange people dressed in greens and browns. “We need to move her; she’ll be safer further underground.”

No.

“No!” I cried. “I’m not going anywhere.”

I tried to stand but my legs strained and more pain hit me like a sledgehammer. My body vibrated, as if struck like a bell.

They whispered to each other and then Apella nodded minutely.

Strange, covered feet were in my vision, white canvas shoes with dark stars on them, muddy and worn, one lace untied. The wearer leaned down, a dark shadow of a face, and squeezed my neck between his thumb and forefinger. Everything went dim, muffled voices, a sharp intake of breath, and then it was black.

I half-hoped I was dead, but the intensity of the pain that woke me was so strong I actually started scrambling backwards to escape it. I hit my head on the back of a bed. Apella and Deshi were both there, looking at me with pity or fear, I wasn’t sure. Apella placed a cool hand on my forehead.

“You’re in labor, Rosa, it won’t be long now,” she said calmly.

I hated her. I focused all my anger on her tiny, pale face. Willing it to crack and crumble like a shattered plate. How could she be so calm? Joseph was dead. We were captured. I surveyed the room quickly. There were things I recognized, like the hospital bed and the white sheets but there were other things I didn’t get, like the roof of the room was carved rock. And why was Deshi allowed to be in here with me? There was one other person in the room, a tall man with blondish hair. He walked over to me and held my wrist. He was wearing tan pants and a colorful check shirt with the familiar white coat over the top. He looked to be in his late thirties. He smiled at me. I just stared blankly back. Things didn’t fit. Where the hell was I?

I was about to ask when the pain and hardening began again. I held my stomach as it rippled across my body and cried softly. A small whimper. Closing my eyes, I tried to dig right inside the pain. Any distraction to stop me from thinking about Joseph’s lifeless body, or kissing his cold, cold lips.

Someone took my hand. It was cool and damp. I didn’t open my eyes. I clenched them closed. I would pretend it was him. If I didn’t look, I could hold onto him for just a little bit longer. I gripped onto the hand tightly. I can do this, I’ll get it out, and then I can leave.

“You’re doing great, Rosa, keep going. I know it’s hard...But Joseph...” Deshi couldn’t finish his sentence. I could hear him sniffling.

“No one speak, please,” I ordered, waving my hand around the room threateningly.

I imagined he was next to me, rubbing my back and pulling my hair out of my face. ‘You’re a mess,’ he would whisper, grinning. Sweat dripped over my brow and into my eyes, I swiped it away. If he was here, I could do this. If he was here, I could do this better.

Trembling, I could feel it coming on stronger now. So close together, I couldn’t breathe between them. Like an assault, with no way to counter. It felt like I was being stretched, a crowbar between every bone in my spine pulling me open, breaking me apart, piece by piece.

I screamed. An unnatural howling scream that came from deep within, carrying with it the physical and emotional suffering I was enduring at that moment. I heard glass shattering, metal trays hitting the ground, and people crying out, close by. “Stop, wait!” a woman yelled.

Something was telling me I had to get up. Get up. Move, now.

Eyes still closed, I dragged myself off the bed, stopping to bow over every thirty seconds, as the contractions hit and then passed. I opened my eyes and steadied myself against the wall, inching myself slowly towards the door.

The man with the tan pants walked towards me. I put my hands up, ready to push him away, “Don’t touch me. Please, I need to…” I pleaded through quivering lips. I didn’t know what I needed to do but I had to move. He didn’t try and stop me, he didn’t speak, he just gently pulled my arm around his neck and supported me as I walked. Apella walked next to me, “There’s not much time,” she whispered, telling me, or him I wasn’t sure. He nodded. I ignored her. I wasn’t sure where I was going, but I pushed through my pain, breathing and timing my steps between. I was propelled forward by an invisible force and, with nothing left to lead me, no hope to hold onto to, I abandoned myself to it. I got to the door and Deshi pushed it open for me.

A metal bar came straight at my face and I fell backwards onto the floor, blood gushing from a cut across my cheek. The pain of the cut was barely noticeable compared to the contractions. A sticky, cold, liquid spilled all over my front. My legs buckled, I knew that was it, I could go no further. I closed my eyes.

“Oh God, I’m sorry. Rosa, Rosa, are you all right?” Someone was shaking me.

A hand was at my face, warm and familiar. Was I dead?

I daren’t open my eyes. I kept them shut as the hand attached to a strong arm pulled me into a lap.

Unfortunately, I couldn’t be dead as the sudden and acute need to push was upon me. Someone steadied me as I pulled my legs up and pushed for all I was worth. I opened my eyes narrowly. Apella was facing me. Her eyes were focused as she looked into mine and said, “Rosa, try not to push.” Something was wrong.

“What? What is it?” A frantic voice whispered as I held my breath.

“The cord is wrapped around the baby’s neck.”

It hit me and the urge to push again was so strong I wasn’t sure I could fight it, it felt wrong. Then that voice uttered deep and low in my ear. “Hold on. Just hold on.” If I was imagining it, I didn’t want to know. I just closed my eyes and listened. Letting the words wash over me, sprinkling gold dust over my eyelashes. Panting and clenching my fists, I kept fighting. I was always fighting.

After what seemed like forever, Apella said, “Ok, next one you can push.”

I couldn’t keep going. If this ended, would my delusion disappear? I would be alone again. My energy was gone. Let it kill me, I thought.

“I can’t,” I replied, listless, I let my arms fall to the floor. My legs relaxed. I gave up. “He’s gone,” I said and I wanted to go with him.

“What’s wrong with her?” I heard Deshi say, confused.

“She’s under too much stress,” Apella replied.

I felt warm hands take up my bleeding face.

“Open your eyes,” he said

I shook my head, “No.”

“You are so stubborn,” he said with a weak laugh. I felt warm breath on my face and anticipated his lips touching mine. The kiss was unlike anything I had felt before, intense and sweet, painful and almost frightening. The lips pulled away. “Open your eyes,” he asked again.

I opened one eye briefly. I saw a flash of blond curls. His scruffy face was as grey as breakfast but the smile on his face was real and full of smashing color.

“One more push, Rosa, then it’s over,” the man in the white coat said kindly, but urgently.

Joseph put his arms under my own and entwined his fingers with mine. I summoned what I could, sure it would not be enough, and pushed.

It was out.

Finally.

The release was tangible. The flood of relief overwhelming.

I waited to hear a cry. With Clara, Hessa had cried almost immediately. Apella was holding it in her arms, rubbing its body down fervently with a towel. We were all silent, watching, waiting. She concentrated her fingers on its chest, rubbing gently in small, circular motions.

“Waaaaa!” it cried and announced itself to the world. An unearthly caterwaul that hurt my ears. I turned away.

I shivered, feeling cold, my body retreating from the trauma. They covered us both in a thick, fur-lined blanket. I lay there in his arms on the corridor floor.

“You did it,” he whispered, his chin resting on my shoulder. I turned. He looked sick, his face pasty and pale, but he was alive. My brain gave up trying to understand how this was possible. Questions could be answered in time. “You look beautiful,” he said, not taking his eyes off me, despite the commotion going on around us.

He was attached to several machines that he had dragged down the corridor with him. The metal bar that had hit my face was lying next to us, a stand for a fluid bag.

“Ha, I was sure you would tell me I was a mess!” I laughed.

“You are,” he said, “but a beautiful one.”

I rolled my eyes, looking over to the others, all smiling down on us. Apella held a child swaddled in cotton. I raised my eyebrows, questioning.

She understood. “He’s fine.”

The leech was a boy.

Five minutes after the birth of our son, Joseph’s heart stopped. As he had before, outside, he clutched his chest in pain, tried to breathe but couldn’t, and then he fell to the side of me.

I sat there in shock and watched as they dragged him away. His usually large form looked oddly small. They put metal pads to his chest and yelled ‘clear!’. His body pulsed unnaturally, rising as if attached to the pads by magnets. They did this again and again. His heart would start and then it would stop, over and over. I sat there shrouded in a blanket, an onlooker to the chaos, barely noticing the people fussing around me.

Now I sit in my room. Pieces of the puzzle slowly filter through as visitors come and go, feeding me small bits of information. They had me in with the baby to start with, but after two days, I asked them to take him away.

One thing I knew, Apella was right all along. These people were the survivors. They were not from the Woodlands and, as of yet, I didn’t exactly know where they came from.

Joseph lay in the bed next to mine, breathing with the aid of a machine. It pumped air in and out of his lungs for him, squeezing in and out like a concertina. The blip of the heart monitor, a comforting noise, let me know, for now, he was alive. How had it come to this, so quickly, so violently?

The kind doctor, who introduced himself as Matthew after all the confusion had subsided, explained it to me carefully, repeating it several times, as it took a while to sink in. Joseph had been bitten by a spider.

“A spider?” I raised my eyebrows dubiously.

“Yes,” he said running his hand through his hair casually. “Think of it as a tiny, microscopic killer with eight legs, smaller than a grain of sand.”

“Is this supposed to make me feel better?” I asked, scowling.

A warm smile spread across his face and I felt my temper calm. He tipped his chin, “You asked me, remember?” His voice was the timbre of honey, slow, deliberate. Sure. I crossed my arms and listened. “Joseph would never have seen it. They are translucent and live inside the rings of the tree trunks.” Guilt stabbed me, jagged and pulsing. It must have come out of one of the trees I had asked the boys to fell for the cabin.

Matthew moved to Joseph and pointed to his ragged arm. “The venom started here, eroding the skin as it went.” I covered my mouth, feeling the heave of a cry creeping up my throat. They had left it open so the wound could breathe. The muscle was gone and it was a concave mash of red flesh. It hurt me so much to see him this way.

Matthew returned to me. I watched his lips moving, the way his mouth turned up on one side as he spoke, “The poison worked its way through his system, arriving at his heart. Usually it takes a long time to get to the heart, but because he ran so far, the blood was pumping faster around his body. It sped the whole process up.”

“So he should have died,” I said, feeling deadened myself.

Matthew nodded, his hands clasped across his lap. He lifted his hand and I thought he was going to touch me but he just rearranged the covers around my knees. “We got to him in time,” he said.

While I was in labor, Joseph was in the other room, close to death but fighting. They administered the anti-venom and began the process of cleansing his blood of the poison. He was awake. He had asked for me and they had told him I was safe. They didn’t tell him I was in labor.

Then I’d screamed.

“They tried to hold him down. The nurses were swinging from his arms like pendulums,” Matthew said with humor in his eyes, “but he’s strong. He was too strong.”

I winced as I heard how Joseph followed my screams; unaware of how sick he was or what damage he was doing to himself, dragging monitors and bags of blood and fluid with him. It was so hard to hear. If I had just kept my mouth shut, maybe he would have been ok. It made me feel sick to think of the choices I had made and what they had done to the people I loved.

Matthew moved to check Joseph’s monitor, putting a stethoscope in his ears and listening to Joseph’s heart. “Adrenalin makes the heart pump blood faster,” he said with his hands on Joseph’s chest. “It pushed the leftover poison straight to his heart, causing the second heart attack.”

Heart attack. He was nineteen, strong and healthy. He shouldn’t have had a heart attack. He never would have if he hadn’t met me.

Matthew put his hand on mine. “So now we just need to wait. His body needs time to repair.”

I looked over at what was left of my Joseph. His strong jaw looked hollowed, his sun-kissed skin was now pale and yellow. He looked ten years older than he was. All the same, he was beautiful.

“But he will wake up?” I asked, although it sounded like pleading.

“I don’t know, but there is hope,” Matthew said with a reassuring smile. He made me feel comfortable. His ease of talking, the way he planted himself on the end of the bed without asking, was unlike any doctor I’d ever met.

“What can I do?” I leaned in, my eyes exploding out of my head with desperation.

He smiled gently and patted my hand. “Just look after yourself and your baby. Joseph’s going to want to see you both happy and well when he wakes up.”

I sunk into my pillow, which smelled like mildewed feathers. Was that all? I had tried. But for me, the overwhelming feeling I’d had after giving birth was release. I’d spent the last four months dreaming of having the thing out of me. Now that it was, it was hard to feel anything other than relief. My worry for Joseph took up most of my time—there was little room in my head or my heart for the baby.

“Have you thought of a name?” Matthew asked as he paused in the doorway, his hand wrapped around the scuffed yellow doorframe.

I shook my head. I’d always thought Joseph would name it. He was the one who wanted the baby. I reached over and touched Joseph’s hand. It was warm. I wondered if that was all we were going to be allowed. Just those short two months together. It had gone so fast. I wish I had taken the time to appreciate it while I was there. But then I didn’t know it was going to be ripped out of my shaking arms.

I pulled myself back in time and dreamed of his hands touching my face, his lips caressing my neck. Where did it go? It disappeared like a wisp of smoke disturbed. I reached out to grab it but it was nothing and slipped through my fingers. I rocked back and forth, hugging my knees. I ached, thinking I might never get it back.

Every day they brought the baby in to feed. Which I did. I wasn’t a monster; I didn’t want him to starve. Feeding was a strange feeling and I wasn’t entirely sure how I felt about it. I imagined Joseph would laugh at my awkwardness, my shyness about people seeing me with my shirt up. The baby fed well but screamed every time they took him away. I closed my ears to it. I couldn’t be what they wanted me to be.

I focused on connecting the floating puzzle pieces I had garnered so far. But it was difficult, the people never stayed too long, they always seemed bustled and busy. They were cagey. When I asked them questions, they quickly made excuses and left. They didn’t seem dangerous but there was a silent threat in their aloofness.

When Careen bounced into my room, I was surprised. I hadn’t seen her since the day the baby was born and I thought maybe she’d left. She swept her hair behind her ears, the fluorescent lights streaking it the color of autumn leaves, and said flatly, “Where’s your baby?”

I sighed, my own hair swung like a ragged curtain in front of my eyes, the color of dull dirt. “I don’t know.”

Her eyebrow arched, but for once she didn’t blurt out whatever she was thinking. I waited for it to return to its normal position over her stunning blue eyes before I asked, “Careen, what happened?” My arms splayed open, palms up, like I was asking the heavens, “How did it all go so wrong?”

She flinched at my emotional tone and moved away. Seeming unaware of Joseph in a coma next to my bed, she plonked herself at his feet and put her hand on his leg. I resisted the urge to slap her because I wanted to hear what she had to say.

She paused, her eyes dancing about in her head like she was searching for the answer up there. When she finally opened her mouth, I jumped. “The trip there was pretty boring,” she said lightly, “Your Joseph was a complete gentleman.”

“He always is,” I snapped.

She smiled to herself, twirling a strand of hair around her finger. “On that rainy night, he gave me his blanket.” I gathered the sheets in my fists, trying not to turn her from a strawberry blond to a patchy bald girl. “He was scratching his arm a lot but I just thought he was nervous.” I rolled my eyes, wondering how someone who’d survived on her own for so long could be so blind to her surroundings. I cursed myself again for not being there. I would’ve known something was wrong. I squeezed my fists tighter, my nails digging into my palms. It was a good pain, a distracting one, but it wasn’t enough. I knew something was wrong before he left but I let him go.

Careen’s eyes swept over my hands, which were attempting to turn my sheets to dust, and said, “The place was swarming with soldiers. We nearly walked straight into some but Joseph saw them and pulled me behind a wall. They were talking about us.” She stood up straight, imitating the conversation they’d overheard. “Stupid kids. They must have switched it from reader to communicator.”

“Well, they must be here somewhere and we are not to leave until we find the two boys and Apella. The rest don’t matter.”

She giggled, covering her mouth. “You know, they were monkeys.”

I ran my hand through my tangle of hair and leaned my cheek into it. “What were monkeys?” I asked, exasperated.

“The yellow eyes, dopey,” she said through her perfectly shaped lips, like it was obvious. “The survivors said the monkeys were playing with the reader and made the switch. It set off a signal, which was easy enough for the soldiers to follow.” That wasn’t funny. It was frightening to know they were looking for us and they knew our last location.

“Careen, focus.”

She waved me off dismissively. “Anyway, once Joseph heard that, he started running. Yelling at me that we had to warn you guys.” She frowned, her delicate nose pinched in concentration. “I guess they heard us or something because halfway back, we heard the choppers.” She put her hand to her heart. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know he was sick. I think I would have helped him if I’d known.” I stared down at my fingers, still splintered from working on the cabin. I was scared of what I might say if I looked at her. “When he fell down, that’s when I knew something was wrong, but by then, well, you know,” her eyes flicked to the monitors. I shuddered at the memory of him walking towards us. The way happiness had swelled inside me and then was quickly replaced with fear and throat-closing panic.

She patted his leg. So she did notice he was there. “That’s all I know really. The green hills all around here are hollowed out. The survivors don’t live here; they send people up to keep tabs on the Superiors. They seem nice, don’t you think?”

She tilted her head, waiting for me to respond. I just stared at her hand on Joseph’s leg, boring holes in her long, slender fingers with my narrowed eyes. Finally, she became uncomfortable and said her goodbyes. She was going to explore the rest of the mounds that day. She skipped out the door, without a care in the world.

Apella and Deshi visited me more than anyone else. Apella, ever hopeful, brought the baby in to see me as often as she could. I knew she was caring for him, but I can’t say it bothered me. She was capable.

Deshi brought Hessa to see me as well. I laid him on the bed in front of me, sitting cross-legged on the mattress. His big blue eyes stared at the light above my head. I stroked his dark skin and smiled. Something hummed in my chest, an uncomfortable squeezing. I know you’re disappointed in me, Clara. I thought of her clear eyes, everything about her was clear and pure. That was something Joseph and her shared. I snapped my head to Apella. “Can you bring the baby in here?” I asked. She darted off quickly, returning five minutes later with the boy.

I handed Hessa to Deshi and took the baby, cradling him in my arms. I peered into his face, wondering how something that had been inside me for nine months could feel so far away. He blinked at me and scratched his cheek accidentally with his fingernail, pulling at his skin like he didn’t know it was his own.

His eyelashes were dark, like mine, but his skin and hair were fair like Joseph’s. I traced the tips of my fingers through his wavy blonde hair, touching him as lightly as I could.

“Why are his eyes grey?” I asked Apella as I handed him back to her. She sighed, obviously disappointed.

“Sometimes it takes time for babies to develop eye color. Maybe in a few weeks-” she started.

“Thanks, you can take him back now.” That beautiful green with flecks of gold I was searching for was not there. I wanted to see Joseph’s eyes again, so very much.

Deshi glared at me with raw irritation. “If Jo saw you now, he’d be devastated. It would break his heart to see you treat his son this way.”

I crumpled. I was upset too. I wanted to be better but I couldn’t seem to claw my way back out of the fog this time. It pegged me to the ground as I whipped and struggled. I was in a stasis of hell I didn’t know how to escape.

“His heart’s already broken,” I whispered. And mine? I wasn’t sure where it was, floating somewhere out in the atmosphere, between the lines of blood red and purple of the sunset. It wasn’t here with me.

“You have to try, Rosa, try harder than you’re trying. If not for yourself, try for Joseph,” Deshi pleaded.

“That’s a lot of trying,” I sneered sarcastically.

I could feel the anger rising up in me. I knew I should stop but of course I didn’t. I screamed at him. “And how is it that you’re so fine? You’re supposed to love him too! What would you do if we took Hessa away from you—how would you feel then?” I took it too far, as I always did. Deshi sighed and took Hessa away; his straight posture and upward glance snubbed my wretchedness. He was suffering but he didn’t let it drag him down to uselessness like me. I didn’t see him again for two weeks.

Joseph , wake up. I knew I couldn’t do this. I told you I couldn’t, but you didn’t believe me. Your faith in me was foolish and misplaced.

Blip. Blip. Blip. Breathe in, breathe out, breathe in, breathe out.

I couldn’t stand the noise anymore. I’d been in here four weeks now, and I’d never left this room. The machine’s humming and Joseph’s mechanical breathing was suddenly too much. It squeezed my head and tore at my ears. Air. I needed air.

He had to be close by. I pulled on the clothes they’d provided. Blue cotton pants, odd-looking white shoes with a red star sewn onto the side, and a white cotton t-shirt. I grabbed a jacket as an afterthought, I hadn’t been outside for a while and the weather may have changed.

I walked down the hall, peering in doorways. It reminded me, chillingly, of being underground in the facility. My heart beat irregularly.

Three doors down, I peered in to find Apella rocking the baby to sleep in a wooden chair. Colorful curtains hung from fake windows, pictures of toy bears were painted on the wall. A small handmade rabbit sat in the corner of his cot. When she saw my dark face, Apella startled.

I walked in quietly. “Can I have him?” I asked, holding my hands out like I was asking for a sandwich.

“Of course.” She handed the tiny child to me wrapped in a yellow blanket.

“I want to go outside,” I said, hunched over the sleeping child.

“Um, ok, I’ll have to ask…” she stuttered, pushing a red button behind her again and again, without breaking eye contact.

Matthew appeared in the door, flanked by two nurses.

“Rosa wants to go outside—is that permitted?” Apella asked.

Matthew watched me as I held the baby uneasily, considering my request. “Can’t see why not. You’ve been sitting in that room four weeks now. It might do you some good to get some fresh air. Come with me,” he beckoned with a tanned finger. The nurses entered the baby’s room as we left, pretending they hadn’t been called by the emergency button, fluffing pillows and straightening sheets.

I followed Matthew. Apella tagged along behind us. We walked in silence. Every now and then he stopped to turn lights on, a chain reaction of fluorescence pushing out the darkness. As I swept my eyes around, it was obvious that most of this vast catacomb was devoid of people.

We descended down a slope, and then it flattened out for a while. We climbed steeply. Several steps led to a big metal door. Matthew unwound a giant metal cog and the door creaked open.

“We’ll wait here,” he said with an unperturbed smile.

“But…” Apella objected. Matthew was standing in front of her and she was on her tiptoes, poking her head over his shoulder, straining to catch my eyes and tell me she thought it was a bad idea.

“We’ll wait here. Come back before it gets too dark and push here,” Matthew said as he revealed a tiny button hidden under a flap of grass, “when you’re ready to come in.” Then he shut the door and they disappeared. I ran my hand over where the door had been. Remarkable. You couldn’t feel a lump or bump or anything.

We’d come out on the other side of the valley. I could see our little cabin in the distance, planted sloppily in the landscape. I couldn’t see the chopper. They must have moved it. The baby snored and snuffled in my arms. He was peaceful, unaware.

With quick steps I made my way to the place I wanted to go, enjoying how light my body felt. If I wanted, I could run. I jumped lithely across the stream and quickly made it to the cabin. It looked tiny and sad now.

After four weeks, you’d never know I’d been pregnant. My smooth skin had bounced back perfectly. The only reminder to me was my belly button, once a perfect round dimple; it now looked like a frown, a downward facing indent in my dark brown skin.

The air clung to me like tiny icicles as I started climbing hill. I picked my way up the incline carefully, holding the baby in one arm and steadying myself with the other. It was slow and cumbersome. The sun followed me up over the hill. Fresh smells of grass and pine filled my nose.

I reached the top and sat down. Bringing my knees up, I laid the baby down on my legs so he was facing me. I wondered what Apella thought I was going to do. I suppressed a wicked giggle at the thought of her worrying about me throwing the baby in the stream, or tossing him off the hillside. Matthew had only known me a short time but he knew me well enough to realize I was not murderous. I was struggling but I didn’t want to hurt him. I wasn’t sure what I wanted to do with him.

I examined the baby carefully. He was still sleeping, his little eyes rolling under his eyelids. I wondered what babies dreamed about. What memories did they have of their life within the womb?

“You’ve been with me this whole time,” I said. “Your dreams are probably filled with wolves howling and chopper blades grinding into the ground. Your father talking and laughing.”

Tears came easily.

“You heard Aunt Clara screaming when she brought your cousin Hessa into the world.” I frowned, wondering if that was the right word, cousin. “You heard me crying when she slipped away. You probably even felt my heart beating so fast every time your father kissed me or even touched my hand.”

I stroked his tiny, blonde head. He looked nothing like me. What part of him was me?

“What should I do?” I asked the sky. The sun was setting, a muted, streaky sunset, mostly yellows and oranges. I imagined Joseph was here, but he was standing back from me, waiting. This decision was mine to make.

I unwrapped the baby, inspecting him closely. A tiny, scooped nose, a heart-shaped mouth, I shrugged. These were features I’d seen on every other baby. He was defenseless, small, but strong. He kicked his leg inadvertently.

“You’re a fighter like me, aren’t you?” I cooed, tapping his bare belly lightly, something stirring in me I couldn’t identify.

He opened one eye lazily. So there it was—his eyes were blue. I was disappointed, I was hoping for that beautiful green of his father’s eyes.

“How about this? I’ll make a deal with you,” I said as I let him grab my finger, curling and uncurling. “I’ll try. I’ll try harder.”

He opened the other eye, yawning and showing me his gummy mouth and milk-stained tongue.

I gasped, my heart beating strangely. Steady but fast. Warmth creeping in. Not a surge of it, not an instant flood, more like a slow drip, edging its way in softly and certainly.