I lay on the sonogram table, holding my breath. Ten long weeks, over. My world collapses at four simple words. “No fetal heart tone.”
He’d had an imaginary friend for weeks. “Where’s Amy today,” his mum asked. “Gone,” he said, “I killed her.” She hadn’t worried, until now.
I was firm. “They’ll be no more pets!” Until that grey flash of fur streaked cross the floor, curled up in my lap and made a liar out of me.
The darkness swallows me. Where’s the door? “Help!” The knob rattles. A small light floods the room. “It’s okay, I’m here,” Mom soothes.
Dad yelled to come look at the man on the moon. Left my Beatles album, gave a nod at the TV, & sneaked back to Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds.
Her fists twisted in impotent rage, teeth clenched in suppressed fury. A seething bitterness welled up within her. “I SAID VANILLA, DADDY!!”