He had been here a long time. It should have been long enough. When the letter came he didn’t open it immediately, but sat watching two lines of sugar ants form a spiral around the teapot. A helix in flux.
And it all came back in a bright glare not of sunlight but of memory.
Her face behind a parted curtain. Pale fingers on the strings of a yellow guitar. The smell of rose petals in a chipped bowl. Paella and fresh bread on the cedar table he’d made from scratch. The scent of their union.
And what came of it later. Her belly swollen and depleted twice. For each one, a decision too late now to regret.
“I have to get out of here,” she said. “Too many candles and not enough light. I must go back to university. You understand, don’t you? People I know, they want me back. It was my life…” her voice trailed off. She fingered the button at the top of her blouse. “Will you keep the little ones?” Seeing his face, she added, “there’s always the pound.”
He closed his eyes. “I’ll take care of it.” She smiled and lifted her hand to touch his face.
He watched her leave and she was walking as if she were alone. So he’d done what a man is allowed to do when his mate leaves. It was not illegal, but certainly unusual to have offspring.
Since the advent of age repressing drugs, natural reproduction was discouraged.
At the pound, he paid the processing fees and promised to return when times improved. But times would not improve. She was never coming back. That night, he got quietly and thoroughly drunk.
***
A middle aged couple strolled along the cages. The woman stopped,
tapping the bars with her umbrella.
Simon/No Place/3
“These two are new. See there? One is looking our way. Smile at
it. Toss it some of that candy you brought.”
The man whistled and clapped his hands. When the creatures didn’t respond, they moved to another cage.
***
A thin man seated himself at the desk. His body appeared youthful, but his face was pinched and lined with purple veins. He nodded while the clerk was speaking.
“They’ve all their shots. You’ll have to bring them back in five years for neutering. That’ll be an extra charge,” she smacked her lips. “I presume you have read the terms of the contract? Then sign here.”
***
He took his time opening the letter. It was a copy of the contract. Natural parents had no further claim. The children’s whereabouts and new identity would never be disclosed.
When she came back, it was an explosion. So much remorse for such a small woman. So many tears. Until finally, she took his hands and asked where they were. He turned to the mirror in the hall, his fingertips on her reflection in the cold glass.
∼ Marge Simon
© Copyright Marge Simon. All Rights Reserved.
