The Infant

                It was a little past three when Eve opened the door and found a baby on the porch of her apartment.

                Its cries had begun as a subtle, almost inaudible whine but had grown to a cracking and imploring shriek that could not be ignored. And so, rising from the couch to investigate, Eve found the surprise that had seemingly been conjured from the wood of the porch or the hot evening air.

                Eve stared at the child for some time in numb concern, attempting to discern the best course of action. She lost track of how long she had been standing there, door agape, gazing at the mound of soft pink flesh between her feet, in an almost hypnotized state. It was a crack of thunder that finally brought her from her lethargy back to reality and as her face sensed a cold breeze’s harsh caress, rain began to fall and drops landed on the infant’s semi-translucent skin and bounced across its pale pink one piece. Something within Eve moved and she had, before she was even cognizant of her own actions scooped up the child very naturally and was in the warm shelter of the house with it.

                The baby’s screams waned momentarily as it seemed to indicate relief from the cold it had entered out of. It was resting in the crook of Eve’s arm and she smiled at the way it was situated there and even began a slight rocking gesture as she stood behind the door and proceeded down the hall into the living room.

                There, Eve noted that the television program had changed and she shot a glance at the clock above the gas oven to confirm that she had been out of the room for almost twenty minutes. She stepped into the kitchen and placed the child on the counter , freeing up both hands  to open the refrigerator and fetch a can of soda and then to the freezer for the carton of ice cream which she had been making dents in as the week progressed. Then she quickly returned to the couch to identify the new program that had just started. It was a light hearted comedy series about a team of doctors who are sent to the heart of the amazon to treat the natives and the hilarious misunderstandings hat ensue from their ethnic and cultural displacement. The leading man was handsome but hardly in the traditional sense and he had a certain rugged appeal. In this episode one of the female doctors unintentionally insults one of the female natives resulting in tense resentment that would climax with a mud wrestling scene. It was a blast, really.

                When the show ended, Eve turned her attention back to the child, noting that it was crying quite loudly now and rolling about on the counter, flailing its arms. As she picked it up she noted that it had turned crimson red in its tantrum of anger and as she pulled it to her it resisted in vain, pushing with its weak arms to separate itself from her. She had not bathed all day and decided a shower was due so she turned and proceeded to the bathroom with the young one in hand. Placing it on its little bottom in the sink, she turned on the water and let the room fill with steam as the rid herself of her garments, only pausing to examine a curious stain on her shorts which seemed like spaghetti sauce, though it carried no odor.

                Her shower was relatively brief, taking up only about 7 or 8 minutes. She was standing there beneath the spattering current of water and looking up at the nozzle. It reminded her on one time when she was very small she had been standing in a garden and it had just rained and water pooled there, dammed by the mounds of fertilized earth. It was so curious at the time, as she stood there, her bare feet wet with mud and itching with that distinctive plant itch. Life would sprout abundantly from this thick filth which at the time seemed so dirty and so dead. A strange thought to be sure, and she might have stood there in the mire a while longer considering it but her mother had appeared and scolded her quite sternly, for wetting ones feet in the dirt was unbecoming indeed for a lady.

                 And when she emerged from the shower, dripping, from behind the curtain, she found the baby being quite loud once again and she raised its face to her wet, bony shoulder as she went into her living room without drying off. As her feet crossed the shagging carpet the infant suddenly lashed a feeble arm at her face and began to swing its head back and forth against her chest, all to no avail.  When in the den, she laid it on its back on the couch and turned to retrieve her clothes and faintly the little one gave a faint hungry moan.

                She has just dressed when the clicking of the front door opening sounded and the familiar sound of her husband’s footsteps through the hallway echoed through the whole place. She went speedily to the hallway to greet him and meet him with a warmly sensual embrace. After kissing her, he appeared puzzled.

                “Is that a dog?” he was straining, listening to the faint whine from the other room.

                 He was already past her in the living room.

                He was looking at it and looking at her and looking back at it and looking at her. She could see the shock, almost desperation in his gaze but dared not meet it directly until she saw it warm and melt to reserved amusement.

                “Well, why didn’t you just say you were expecting, dear?” And his smile grew as he knew he had made a very clever joke.

                He was now inspecting the child closely, like a Spartan official and reached out to touch its foreign, almost alien skin. She turned to fetch him a drink and when she turned back he was at the counter, thumbing through the paper with one hand while holding, just below his waist, the infant by its collar with the other. He thanked her for her drink and continued emerging himself in the latest business reports. Reaching into his coat pocket for his cigarettes he unwrapped the new pack and began to lightly pack the tobacco rolls against the baby’s head but quit after several strikes finding the countertop a sturdier surface. Striking a match he lit the cigarette and as smoke drifted across the table he began to recount an incident from his day at the office. In a broad, sweeping motion with his left hand he struck his glass and watched it begin the decent onto the tile floor, at which point, his more basic instincts enacted and he released the child and extended both hands to safely cradle the glass inches from the floor. He quickly shifted to place it in the ring of moisture in which it had been residing on the table.

                Eve was now on the other side of the counter holding the child in her arms and she was shooting him a very intense look.

                “That is certainly no way to treat a child!” she was hissing.

                He was a bit dumbfounded as he slowly rotated his glass on the table.  

                “Well you have him now, he’s quite alright.”

                “Well of course he’s alright! But still, why are you so clumsy?”

                “He is quite alright.”

                “Well I know, but…”

                “Say, where is my cigarette lighter?” A breeze drifting through a crack in the wall had killed three matches as he was attempting to start a fresh cigarette.

                “Well, I can’t say that I have seen it today.” And she was looking about here and there trying to hidden metal canister.

                “Sure it isn’t in your car?” She asked as she was opening the oven to check every conceivable inch of living space. He was looking too; and when the search in the oven yielded no results she placed the infant on the metal grates inside and shut the door. It was better to have two hands.

                “Speaking of my car,” he began, “It was making the strangest noise today. A slight ping to be sure.”

                “Have you been filling it with the cheap gasoline?” She was now on all hands and knees in her exploration of the living room floor.

                “Never mind it dear I got one to light.” She turned and saw that he was blowing smoke across the kitchen. “And anyway it’s bound to turn up.”

                “I suppose you are right. Give me one of those.” And they were both sitting there for some time, smoking and fidgeting and darkly eyeing one another with the slightest uneasiness until he broke the silence.

                “Hey, isn’t tonight lasagna night? I just realized I have been thinking about it all day.”

                “Oh my heavens, how could I forget?” and she was digging through the refrigerator and from it she produced a pan nearly a foot long filled with premade red and white pasta.

                “What kind of wife am i?” she sighed “what would my mother think?’

                She was partially joking but he rose to console her anyway.

                “Now, now dear, she did well by you. And I did well to get you.” He smiled and kissed her, slightly at first then more passionately and she lifted a touch to his face with hands more feminine than anything else he knew. After some time they parted lips.

                “You think so?”

                “I know so. I love you.” And he kissed her again and she kissed him back.

                “I love you too.”

                She turned the oven to preheat and began to wipe the countertop.

               

Reviews

[J]

omg this is completely bizarre ..... i kept waiting for some sort of "instinct" to kick in, especially with her. you're prolly laughing at me right now as obviously you are showcasing a rather twisted sense of the farcical ....... tamping down a pack of smokes on his h.e.a.d?? dangling him by his collar? but truly, you exhibit a severe case of the unthinkable ~ were you left alone too much as a kid? [laughing] sure hope these two don't decide to have a family! and you, too, for that matter! [i can't even comment on the oven thing. ohgoodgrief]