a baby

She got the message from her sister and, now, she needed a place to sit and think, to compose herself, to figure out what she needed to say, to do, to think, really. She headed to the lounge, much as it was, down a flight of stairs, nearest the basement pharmacy. She felt her feet grow heavy, her steps, too. The father, the baby’s father, was newly listed as KIA in Afghanistan. Maybe if she’d aborted the baby the news would be no more than painful a reminder. of a thoughtless indiscretion But it wasn’t that now, anymore. It was more, bigger, different, at the very least. Her head was spinning. Whom did she need to call? Anyone? Everyone? Mary Wolnert was sitting in the lounge, nursing a large diet Coke. Behind her back, everyone called her “Hairy Mary.” She did have a bit of a moustache, not that it seemed to bother her. “You ok?” Mary asked, now. Becky nodded. It wasn’t near time, yet, but she felt something move in her belly. She’d swear to it, even though the doctors would later tell her that it wasn’t possible. “I’m a little tired,” she said. “Well, sit,” Mary said. “I can make you a cup of tea.” And she did. And Becky decided, as Mary tinkered near the sink, in her own mind, by herself, that she would call Ron’s mother and tell her that she would be a grandmother. It was the best thing she could think of, given the circumstances.