WISHBONE

by Brooklyn Hudson

  Julien lay there well aware of the distance between them in the queen-size bed. Rachael had seemingly believed his explanation for the mysterious bruising on his face, but she had been relatively quiet all evening, walking around with a pensive expression. She hadn’t seemed angry, yet now he felt like he was sleeping in an igloo. He thought about turning over and wrapping his arms around her, but feared her reaction would trigger a night filled with drama and hours of exhaustive discussion. He thought better of it and instead, turned over onto his back. He was there for her if she wanted him.

  * * * *

  Julien could hear the faint sound of birds chirping through the window glass. His eyes fluttered.

  Don’t.

  Don’t wake up yet.

  Sleep for a while longer.

  In a twilight stupor, Julien moved to turn onto his side, but felt something sliding off his chest. Instinctively, he jerked his hands up to catch the… remote control…book…BABY!

  Instantly awake, Julien stared down at the petite bundle nestling against his chest. He could feel each pounding beat of his heart as he looked down at it lying on its belly in a tight ball, legs and arms draw against itself, its rump high in the air. He froze; there could have been a cup of acid resting on his chest and he would have been less petrified. It wriggled in its sleep, drawing one hand toward its mouth. Julien was caught somewhere between his back and his side, the baby held in place beneath his hand. He stared down at the newborn. Thick black hair, tiny fingers, a soft pink cotton onesie speckled with tiny white hearts. Julien carefully completed the turn, slowly lowering the infant onto the mattress before scrambling backwards far from the bed.

  On its back now and suddenly exposed, the baby began to cough out tiny grunts, then whimpers, and finally, to wail at the top of its lungs. Julien backed away even further from the bed bumping into the wall.

  Rachael turned over and jumped to attention. She looked down at the baby and then to Julien before snatching the baby into her arms. She hugged tightly to her daughter and began to sob.

  Julien paced at the foot of the bed, his mind reeling, so erratic, he could not decipher his own thoughts. He slid to the ground where he sat covering his face and trying to quiet the chaos of his mind.

  Rachael studied the baby, her fingers, her ears, her lips; bawling, she could hardly see a thing.

  Julien sat beneath the windows staring in shock at the carpet. Judging by the size of the baby, this was not a baby, but the baby, brought to life by Rachael’s last wish. He couldn’t bring himself to look at his wife. He listened to the sound of her crying and felt like he might be on the brink of doing the same, though for very different reasons. His thoughts were all over the board. Essentially, his wife was holding a dead fetus. A phenomenon, which due to her actions, had now become impossible for Julien to continue turning a blind eye to.

  I’m going to be sick.

  Julien rushed to the adjoining bathroom and hunched over the commode.

  Rachael could hear Julien emptying the contents of his stomach. Her heart sank; what had she done? She could not stop weeping amidst the turmoil of sheer joy and extreme guilt, gratitude and terror. The infant was sound asleep in her cradled arms. She was perfect, love, hope, new, warm, hers, theirs, real, alive. Everything had been made right with one single wish.

  Julien wiped his mouth with a towel. He winced, reminded of the incident in the pool, and then testing and rocking his jaw from side to side.

  How could I not see this coming?

  How could I not know?

  Why? What is wrong with me?

  Why hadn’t she mentioned a word about the baby in all this time?

  Why hadn’t I?

  Because she never told me about the baby—Matt did.

  It was never a discussion between us.

  How can I be so heartless?

  How can I be so stupid?

  This is unnatural…we can’t.

  Julien walked back into the bedroom. Rachael’s red swollen eyes locked on him. He could see her desperation as he came closer. He had the feeling she might bolt if he moved too quickly. He knelt before Rachael and the baby, whom he refused to look at.

  Tears running down her face, Rachael whispered between hiccoughs of air. “Please…” she pleaded. “Please, Julien…please don’t say it.”

  Julien ran a hand slowly through his hair and sighed. “Rachael,” he spoke softly, touching her thigh. “Sweetheart…we just cannot.” He shook his head searching for the right reasons. “We don’t have a birth certificate.”

  “We can wish for one,” she suggested. “No one needs to know.” She sat there, heartsick and willing him to find it within him to agree. “We’ll hide her.”

  Julien had seen his wife through a tragic time; he had seen her frantic, panic-stricken, but never had he seen her so desperate. They spoke with their eyes for a long moment, his wife’s soul staring back at him. His heart ached seeing her this way, and knowing how difficult it would be to convince her to do the right thing. He wanted her to be happy. He wanted to take away the damage that had been done to her and give her what she wanted, but this was not a horse, nor a motorcycle. This was playing God.

  “Rachael,” he said, placing a hand behind her neck, “I did not know.” He moved up to sit beside her on the bed, still refusing to look down at the baby. “I did not know,” he repeated.

  Riddled with guilt and watching her suffer, he felt his eyes dampen. The baby had never been real to him. It existed for only a short angry cab ride, a brief past tense discussion with a doctor, and then banished from his mind as he sat beside his battered, assaulted wife in the hospital, consumed by anger and worry. He had never thought about her loss, her grief, only the trauma and anxiety of the rape.

  “Rachael, you’re not asking to keep a puppy.” The words slipped from his tongue and he felt terrible; he did not mean it the way it sounded. He let go of her and turned away. He caught their reflections in the mirror. He watched her watching him.

  “No, not a puppy,” she replied, wiping at her face with the back of her hand.

  Julien turned back to her. “This is not real, Rachael. I …I do not know what this is… it is very unnatural. It is very wrong.”

  Her voice took on a shrill tone when she asked, “Why is this wrong?” She clutched the baby tighter, her eyes penetrating and filled with fear.

  His frustration was mounting. “Rachael…why can you not understand this? We promise to each other we would not do this things. We do not know what we are doing…the gift…the wishes. We don’t know what we do? What we are to mess with.”

  Rachael, her eyes held steady on Julien, she could see he was fighting back tears of his own—something she had never seen him do before; their life together had always felt so perfect.

  “Please, Julien?” she asked once more.

  “Rachael, you do not understand how hard this is for me to say no to you. This will kill me.” He lost his battle and tears fell. “This is dangerous. We promise to each other and you do this.”

  At first, Rachael did not know what to do. He was crying and she wanted to console him; she also wanted to look away. She gazed down at the baby in her arms and then back to Julien.

  “If you wish her away you have to wish me away too,” she said stone-faced.

  Nervous laughter escaped Julien and he studied her.

  She added, “If you don’t, I’ll just do it anyway.”

  She is threatening me to kill herself.

  “Rachael, listen to me,” he pleaded. “We have to make this right. We make the wish and take care of the problem. I promise you, we start right away to make a family, okay? We do this the right way, with both of us planning and no question from others, okay?”

  “Take care of the problem?” Rachael glared at him. “I don’t fucking believe you.” The baby startled and she lovingly ran a hand over the top of her head.

  Is there any way to give her what she wants?

  Julien’s gaze fell up
on the sleeping newborn. Every ounce of his conscious mind told him this was wrong. This was a mistake, unnatural, dangerous.

  This is not a motorcycle…a pool…a tattoo…

  She is dying inside…She lost a child.

  How could I ignore she lost a child…Our child.

  He did not know what to do. No answer felt right to him. His head was pounding, his chest tight. The room began to spin.

  I will have a fucking heart attack for this…

  I don’t know how we pull this off…explain this…hide this…

  This is wrong. This is dangerous.

  “Rachael,” he gave it one more try, “We can have a baby…” More tears ran down his face. If there were any part of him that could be convinced that keeping this child was the right thing to do, he would have allowed for it. “Just not this baby,” he added. He choked out the words between his increasing emotions. He knew how painful it would be for her to lose the baby twice, but they were playing God, and he was sure nothing good would come from it.

  Rachael’s entire body shuddered. He tried to hug and console her, but she shrank away from him. The baby began to wail.

  He got to his feet and found a shirt. “It’s wrong, Rachael. We’re doing something very wrong here with these…these bones. It is going out of control. This is out of control!” he shouted, motioning toward the baby in her arms. Glancing around the room, he spotted his cigarettes. He paused for a moment before lighting one—a baby in the room. Then lit it anyway.

  “I’m scared Rachael.” He paced at the foot of the bed. “I admit that I have been thoughtless. It was cruel for me to not realize that you were grieving. I was wrong.” He gestured emphatically as he stuttered and stammered through his words.

  “I want you to be happy and I will be open to…to talk.” He sat at the foot of the bed now pulling on his boots. Looking down, he found his cell phone on the floor peeking out from beneath the bed. He had not turned it on for at least a week; they were totally absorbed and caught up in their game. He took the phone and dropped it into the pocket of his leather jacket.

  “I’m going out to the barn. Have your time…and when I come in…we need to make this right.” Julien left her alone with the baby.

  In the kitchen, Julien opened the freezer and removed one of several frozen birds. He placed it in the sink with a loud thump then stormed out of the house, a whirlwind of varying emotions suffocating him. On the way to the barn, he lit another cigarette and turned on his phone. He cursed beneath his breath listening to a potential job offer made six days earlier. He would claim to have been out of town and return the call immediately—fingers crossed. The next message was Matt asking for a call back. Julien deleted it. The next two consecutive messages were also from Matt; each slightly more concerned than the last and the latter, questioning why he had never called back. Next was Lily, concerned about Rachael, who was not returning her calls either. Then Rachael’s mother, rambling about her husband whom she refused to accept, had been dead for eleven years. The final message was also from Matt…

  “Hey Julien…listen, I know there was that thing between Lily and Rach, but you also said you guys wanted us to come up for the weekend…I know it took a while for me to get back to you, but you know how that goes…always something going on…but now Rachael isn’t calling Lily back and you’re not calling me back, and honestly…we’re starting to really worry. Give me a call, man, okay… We wanna come up and see you guys this weekend. Call me…let me know if that works for you and tell Rachael to give Lily a call…she’s feeling pretty bad about everything. Later man…call me, fucker!”

  Julien had to find a way to put their visit off for a while. He would deal with Matt later.

  Yet another lie to concoct.

  He was positive that once the baby was gone, it would be some time before Rachael could receive company. He entered the barn for the first time in several days and climbed the ladder to the loft. He flipped on the stereo and Leslie Gore’s haunting rendition of You Don’t Own Me filled the room. Julien shook his head and walked away, turning on his computer, he sat looking out at the view of the mountains surrounding Kings Hollow. He would get nothing done today. For one thing, he would have to wrap his brain around the idea of starting a family. If they started now, he would be sixty when the kid turned fifteen.

  Does that matter?

  What kind of parent would I be?

  I didn’t have the best role model.

  That is not true!

  I had my grandfather and grandmother, and I will never be like Jérome.

  He realized he was brushing his knuckles back and forth against the bruise on his jaw. He stopped himself. He would not give Jérome the satisfaction of adding to his troubles today.

  She has to realize that what she wished for is wrong.

  She made a big mistake.

  He opened a file in his computer trying to move on with the day, but his mind kept drifting back to Rachael...his guilt for not knowing…not realizing what she was going through.

  Who am I?

  Can I make this decisions…insist that the baby must go?

  I am trying to protect us.

  We don’t know the repercussions of this.

  Julien propped his elbows on the desk and ran his fingers through his hair, giving it a frustrated tug. His mind was dodging from decision to decision, muddled and confused, he suddenly found himself running a search on the Prison Saint-Michel website for Jérome Grenier. He was having no luck. He dialed the telephone number at the bottom. In French, he spoke to several people, transferring from one office to the next until finally, a record was found and Julien was told of his father’s death from lung cancer seven years earlier.

  * * * *

  Rachael sat rocking the baby on the bed. She could hear Julien’s words ringing in her ears, insisting the baby must go. Her tears had dried and she had no emotions left. She felt drained and empty. It was her opinion that Julien was being hateful and angry, purely because she had not told him of her pregnancy in the first place. They were given a gift in the wishbone game and could have anything their hearts desire. There would no longer be any unsolvable problems in their lives; they could fix anything with a simple wish and Julien’s insistence upon rules and limitations was the product of his controlling and neurotic personality. He simply did not want her to have this baby, not before and not now. She thought; he has no right to make such a decision. She had lived so many years putting up with his secrets and moodiness, convincing herself how good he was to her—providing I followed his rules. This had been fine when it pertained to which apartment they purchased or where they went on vacation, but this was very different and she was not going to allow it. She looked down at the tiny baby in her arms and ran the tip of her finger gently around Jessica’s delicate lips.

  “No one will take you away from me again,” she vowed. “You are very wanted, my angel. Julien doesn’t realize what he’s saying. Your daddy …it’s not his fault.” She spoke softly to her. “Something terrible that happened to him as a child is to blame for this. I know it.”

  She began to contemplate, had Julien been given the chance to confront his father, perhaps he would have put his childhood behind him, regardless of the outcome, he could have moved on. After years of overhearing him confront the man in his sleep, she was sure this was at the root of it all.

  Rachael sniffed at the air, suddenly aware of the aroma wafting into the bedroom. She looked up, startled to find Sarah standing in the doorway. Sarah made no apologies and entered the room. Slowly she walked along the length of Rachael’s dresser stopping to admire photographs along the way. Abruptly, she turned her attention to Rachael dropping beside her onto the bed. Rachael froze, unsure as Sarah’s hand reached to touch the

  baby. She allowed the girl to briefly caress the infant. With another unexpected lurch, Sarah’s other hand jutted out before Rachael holding a wishbone in her grasp.

  Rachael sat staring at the bone. Sarah shoved
the bone closer to Rachael, grunting and encouraging her to play.

  “You want me to play the game with you?” Rachael asked.

  Sarah continued to grunt and persuade Rachael to take hold. Julien would certainly not approve of this, but Rachael was not in the mood to care. She needed supplies for the baby and making a wish would certainly be safer than traveling with an infant and no car seat. A grin spread across Rachael’s face and she nodded as she took one side of the bone.

  Closing her eyes tight, Rachael made her wish. Tink!

  She opened her eyes and looked at the bone in her hand and the remaining piece in Sarah’s. Her brow furrowed and she took hold of Sarah’s wrist drawing it closer to compare the pieces of bone. They appeared identical in size. Never in her lifetime of playing the game had she seen a wishbone break evenly down the center. A startled laugh escaped her and Sarah beamed then jumped to her feet, spinning in circles and singing to the heavens before darting from the room.

  Rachael wasn’t sure what this would mean… No one wins? We both win? She sat there pondering for a few moments then walked softly down the hall, trying to not wake the baby as she moved along. Something caught her eye and she took a step backward and glanced into one of the extra rooms. There she found the nursery, decorated from top to bottom in soft pink and brown, the room lined in boxes containing various items: a car seat, stroller, bassinette, several cases of formula, bottles, a small plastic tub and more toys and books than she could ever imagine buying. Another choking laugh escaped her and she placed the baby on the changing table where diapers lined small storage shelves and baskets. Quietly, she undressed Jessica for their first bath together. Rachael was enamored.