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Molly Chambers sat at her kitchen table, rubbing
her swollen stomach and gazing through the window at
the lone birch tree in her front yard. So much guilt;
she’d been able to avoid thinking about it for a long
time, what with the pregnancy and all, but yesterday
it had come back to roost with a vengeance.
Shane’s mother had called. After twelve months
overseas on the front lines of the conflict, he was
home.
Molly felt terrible about what she’d done to
Shane. Dating all those years and then breaking up
with him at the airport as he was preparing to leave
with his unit. She tried to convince herself that it
wasn’t her fault really… in High School it had been
easy, since they could see each other daily. Basic
training had been more difficult. Shane was so
far away and there was Andy, right there, all
persistence and patience. It was only human nature to
desire the attention and then actively seek it out.
Now here she was, eight months pregnant with
Andy’s baby, feeling like the worst kind of betrayer
because she hadn’t even put a yellow ribbon on the
stupid tree for Shane.
“Whatcha thinking about hon?” Andy came in and
kissed her on top of her head.
“The baby,” she lied.
I’m not a bad person.
“Okay, well I’ll see you when I get home from
work.”
It’s just a stupid ribbon.
Andy hunkered down and rubbed her belly. “Take
care little boo,” he said, and then looked up at her
with caring eyes. “Anything happens call my cell,
okay?”
“Uh huh.”
It doesn’t matter, really.
Deep inside of her, the baby kicked.
* * *
11:56 pm:
Molly’s bladder woke her up with a forceful
demand for attention. She groaned as she staggered to
her feet, glancing at the clock on her way to the
bathroom. Ugh. She couldn’t remember the last time she
had gotten to sleep the night through, and supposed it
would be a long while before she ever got to again.
Parking on the toilet (in itself an entertaining
spectacle to behold) she glared at her thighs in
distaste. She tried to recall a time when her ass had
fit on the damned thing without hanging over and found
that she couldn’t.
Sigh.
Five minutes of awkward ablutions and
self-loathing later, she killed the light and was
waddling her way back into bed. Fluffing the covers,
something caught her tired attention. Something wrong.
“Andy?” He’d gone to sleep with her two hours
ago. Now he was absent.
She slipped on a pair of puffy slippers in
deference to her swollen feet and galumphed with as
much grace as she could manage down the hallway to the
living room. It was pitch black in the house, so she
took extra care not to trip or bark her shins.
“Andy? Where the hell are you?”
It was beginning to rain; Molly could hear the
staccato beat of it thrumming against the
double-wide’s roof. Lightning flashed, tinting her
vision blue. Hey, waitaminit…
She crossed the living room and stared out the
bay window. By the dim glow of the streetlamp on the
corner she could just make out what had caught her
eye. The tree.
Tied around it, a proud, perfect bow. A yellow
ribbon.
What the hell? Instinctively she backed
away from it and the fear of the unknown that it
represented. Three awkward steps later the inside of
her knee caught the edge of the coffee table and she
tumbled over backwards onto the couch. The air
whooshed out of her lungs as rather than drop onto a
soft surface she landed on an unexpected lumpy one.
Grunting, Molly managed to roll over as the storm
played cameraman once more and she found herself
staring into Andy’s bloated, dead face. His eyes
bulged out cartoon-like and his tongue was pasted to
his bottom lip with a white crust of dried spittle.
It’s not real. It’s not real!
She threw herself up and off of the sofa with
near-gymnastic grace, adrenaline overriding her
pregnant clumsiness. There was a scream lurking in her
belly, a primordial thing that wanted out. She could
feel it rising through her like morning sickness and
she fought it, head spinning and ears buzzing even as
she knew she was going to lose.
Whistling. Behind her. A familiar melody,
straight out of her childhood. In her mind the shriek
fizzled out and she found herself singing along with
Tony Orlando. She couldn’t help it.
Tie a yellow ribbon, ‘round the old oak tree.
“Hey babe, I’m back. Got in yesterday. I see you
didn’t put a ribbon up for me while I was gone.”
“Shane…”
“Don’t worry about it though.” His voice was low,
so low that she could hear the whisper of silk being
pulled across her throat.
“I’ve got plenty.”
x x x
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