Becca's Baby

THAT NIGHT, alone in her house, Becca reached rock bottom. And nothing happened. She didn’t convulse. Or scream. She didn’t foam at the mouth or run raging through the rooms like a maniac. She sat quietly on the leather sofa in the family room, doing absolutely nothing, seeing nothing. Feeling nothing.

Nothing mattered. She was completely and utterly alone. Not just in her house, but in her heart.

Glancing at the rocker she and Will had picked out together, she knew, objectively, that seeing it there should hurt. But it was just a chair. Not moving. As lifeless as she.

“I’m okay,” she announced to the dust motes collecting on her tables. They didn’t stir. “I’m not falling apart.”

The room didn’t notice at all. Didn’t change at all.

Will was gone. They’d been separated for almost two weeks with no sign of reconciliation. She was all alone in the world.

As the time passed, Becca sat there, amazed that nothing terrible or urgent was happening. She wasn’t being carried away by men in white coats; she wasn’t dying; she wasn’t even crying. She was still sitting calmly in her family room, untouched. As was everything around her.

The bookshelf held the collection of favorites she and Will had gathered over the years—including the book with the torn black binding they’d picked up in a musty old store on a back street in London. It was a collection of world mythology.

Her sofa was clean. She and Will kept it that way. They had a bottle of leather cleaner under the sink in the kitchen. The thick tapestry rug lay with its familiar pattern, images of doves in each corner with a serpent wrapping around most of the piece. You had to really look to see the figures. But she’d looked at it so many times, she saw them immediately.

The television sat silent across the room, part of the home-theater system she’d bought Will for Christmas. It had Surround Sound, a DVD player, a VCR. His stereo components were there, too.

The plants needed dusting, though not watering, thanks to Randi.

They were going to have to get another CD rack soon. Theirs was almost full. The afghan lying along one corner of the back of the love seat had a bump on one side, where it was folded unevenly. She’d fix it.

The walls still looked pretty good, though they hadn’t been painted since the house was built. Hmm. Could be they looked so good because she’d only turned on one small lamp, on the end table beside her, when she’d come into the room.

She didn’t see any smudges in the entire wall of windows, but then, it was nighttime. Dark outside. The tiny lights in the distance, seen from her vantage point up on the mountain, would hardly cast enough illumination to show smudges.

She was glad. Smudges bothered her, and she didn’t have the energy to wash windows.

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nbsp; Becca wondered if she was going to fall asleep sitting there. Not that she felt sleepy, but it was night. She’d feel sleepy eventually. She could always pull the afghan over her if she did.

Of course, she’d have to get up and walk over to the love seat to pick it up. Later. But that would take care of the bump where it was folded unevenly.

Just as she was feeling almost resigned to her numbness, the baby gave her a not-so-gentle nudge. Looking down, Becca watched as a small lump formed against her belly, visible even through the T-shirt she was wearing. It moved slowly across her belly and she followed its progress, both inside and out. She could feel the tiny body part move. She could see it.

“It’s okay, little one,” she murmured, almost dazed as she watched. “My mind’s still here, with all the other things in this room. I’m alert and aware. Believe it or not.”

The movement stopped.

Placing her hand over the small lump still poking out, she rubbed gently. “I’m going to be able to take care of you,” she whispered. “I’m sure of it now.”

With these words came the first twinge of feeling. Though intense, it lasted only a brief second and was gone.

The lump disappeared.

“It’s not that I didn’t have enough strength, which was what I feared,” she said quickly, still talking out loud. “I just didn’t know I had it. It hadn’t ever really been tested.”

The baby kicked, and feeling returned to Becca in a rush. Big tears welled up in her eyes, slid down her face, as her heart opened up and dark lonely holes filled with peace.

“I’m okay,” she whispered. “Whatever comes, I’m going to be okay.”

As though digesting the meaning of those momentous words, the baby was still.

“I may not be happy,” Becca admitted, half laughing through her tears as she looked down at the mound that hid her baby. “I’ll never be completely happy without your daddy.” She stopped. Sniffed. Wiped her tears. “I love him so much….”

Her voice broke. “But I’ll be okay, no matter what,” she said with a shuddering breath.