the fossil record
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She studies the brass plate on the door. "Push." She follows the command to enter the plush interior of the east side lounge. She scans for a friend but instead lands her eyes on his soft brown hair. His eyes are fixed on a large, looming blond. She ignores him but can't seem to let him out of her sights. Later, on his way to the bathroom, he sees her too. He never returns to the German princess.
In a dark bedroom, she studies the outline of his body as his clothes begin to
fall on the floor. He approaches the bed and she pretends to be sleeping. "I
need this," he tells her. "He needs me," she's thinking. "It's been a month,"
he's pushing. And he pushes. And it's gone.
It was raining and she was crying so dampness was all around her. He was
following, swallowing the words that came out wrong. He didn't mean to scare
her. He just wanted to care for her and tell her that he'd give her what she
needed. He pleaded for her to understand that it could be another way. She
pushed him away and continued into the night.
The lights were bright in the big room though they tried to make things beige
and soft. She coughed and felt the pressure all inside her. She was afraid to
release, to decrease what she had slowly collected over nine, long months. He
was there with her now but how long would it last? Their moment to shine had
passed and now he was only waiting for the right time to leave. She closed her
eyes as another throb began. Then she heard the words curl into her ear.
"Push," the doctor said gently. "It's time." She contracted all she could and
began on the long journey of letting a part of her go. Although upon
completion her relief was desperate, there lay the small bundle on her breast
and she felt the tug, a pull. The tide had turned.
Cristina Teresa O'Keeffe