#53
In the dream the child was all grown up,
looking like one of the grandparents, although Dana couldn't say which. The
close-cropped salt-and-pepper hair was Jean’s certainly, although the executive
suit with the number 53 stitched in blue and gold on the lapel was fitted to
Remy's trim build. Dana shook her head and reached for the baby, who was damp
and hungry.
"How dare I have you looking like some
of old fart?" she said as she bent to whisper against the child's belly.
"You looked so serious, though, like the weight of the world was on your
shoulders." She looked up. "Kind of like you do now, in fact."
She blew air through her lips to make the baby chortle.
"That's better." Dana settled
onto the couch to nurse. "The room you were in looked familiar, but it
wasn't home." She clicked the mp3 remote and the Grand Theft Orchestra
kicked in. "Not anyone's home that I know."
After two songs, Dana put the baby over her
shoulder and patted to the rhythm of Trout Heart Replica until she got a
resounding burp, so loud that it made them both laugh. She changed breasts and
now the baby began toying with the buttons of Dana's shirt, her oddly long
fingers pressing each button purposefully. It was then that Dana took notice:
"You're going to be a lefty, aren't
you?"
The baby continued to suckle, pressing the
buttons as if in some kind of code.
Dana leaned her head back and thought of
the dream again. Her grown-up, grandmotherly daughter was standing with a bunch
of suits in a room that was formal and elegant; bright, with a fireplace and a
painting of George Washington over the mantelpiece.
"It's so strange to think of you being
grown up, being older than I am, being old, when I don't even know what your
voice is going to sound like or whether you'll be good at sports or at playing
the piano."
Dana gazed down at the diaper-and-onesie-clad
child and smiled. "At least you weren't all dressed in Star Trek
uniforms," she said, "Lieutenant Uhura."
The baby stopped sucking and smiled.
"You like that, do you?" She
repeated the name again, “Uhura”, thinking of the gold uniform with the
Enterprise chevron over the heart, when she remembered another detail from the
dream.
“Now why did you have a spread-eagled eagle
on your jacket where your Division Patch should be?” Dana teased. “I’m going to
have to get this dream analyzed after all.”
Dana held the baby up to burp her again,
then danced her across the small living room. It would only be a couple more
weeks before she would be packing her off to daycare and returning to work.
"Shall we go pick up Aunt Amy down at
the shelter?" Dana carried the baby over to the chest of drawers, pulled
out miniature overalls: "We'll need some sturdy duds for the meet and
greet, won't we?"
Dana slung a diaper bag over her shoulder,
sat the baby on her hip and grabbed the folded-up stroller from the corner by
the front door.
"Maybe one of the girls can tell me
what it means to have the number 53 stitched on a suit lapel." Dana shook
her head. “I can just imagine what they’ll say about the bird!”
She put the baby into the stroller and
dangled the key chain in front of her. When the baby reached out her hand to
make a grab for them, Dana smiled.
"Yup," she said, "you're
definitely a lefty."
My Round 9 entry for NPR's Three-Minute Fiction contest, which had to revolve around a US President.
The winning entry is here: http://www.npr.org/2012/11/04/164264711/three-minute-fiction-the-round-9-winner-is
My Round 9 entry for NPR's Three-Minute Fiction contest, which had to revolve around a US President.
The winning entry is here: http://www.npr.org/2012/11/04/164264711/three-minute-fiction-the-round-9-winner-is
Nice Kymm! Brings back memories of the crazy baby phase :)
ReplyDeleteThanks, Cyndi! Yeah, nice to look back on...
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