Love Child

The pain stopped once the little thing had shot itself out of her. It was a quick birth. Her water broke, soaking her underpants in amniotic juice, and he rushed her to the car. She had it on the way to the hospital. The nurses flocked around the little screaming thing, returning it to her after making sure it was healthy and normal. It was wrapped in a white blanket and stared up at her with wide, watery eyes. It wasn’t cute; it’s skin was wrinkly with creases because it wouldn’t stop crying, and the whole face was red and blotchy. She fought with him over who it looked like more.

She and the baby had to be kept under observation for the night. He went home, telling her he’d pick her up in the morning. She couldn’t sleep; she could hear the weird popping, slurping sounds that came from its mouth, see its chubby reddish limbs thrashing while it lay in the crib. She lay down on her side so she didn’t need to look at it. But she could still hear it, and she didn’t get a wink of sleep.

On the way home, she rode in the passenger seat while he drove. She watched the palm trees sway in the breeze and grow more in number as they drove farther away from the town. It was lying on her lap, and its huge eyes looked like they were staring out the window, too. She sat with her arms crossed over her chest, which still ached after the nurses told her to begin breastfeeding.

They reached the abandoned amusement park that ran along a rickety, old dock found on the seaside. It shifted in her arms, wrapped loosely around its body. The salty air from the sea was warm and strong, and sand got into its eyes. It began to wail.

They walked along the dock to the pier, stopping at the end and staring at the dark water thrashing against the rocks far below. She gave him one last look and he nodded. She stretched her arms over the railing, the little thing’s bottom in her left hand and its neck in her right. She loosened her grip and let it fall. Mutely, they turned around and didn’t wait to hear the splash.

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