Fairy

by Shane McKenzie

  “Okay, Cecilia,” Dr. Little said. “Just relax.”

  The whole ordeal lasted about half an hour, but it felt like a year. She never once opened her eyes, never once looked at her bearded doctor. It wasn’t until the catheter was pulled out and the doctor left the room just after telling her to get dressed that she sat up and let her eyelids slide open.

  The room was too white, the air too cold. She didn’t know why she kept coming to this place, kept setting herself up for disappointment, but the whole thing had become routine. But her body wouldn’t cooperate, she knew, and would refuse to take the life serum that was injected into her. There was a part of her that would even welcome a miscarriage, anything that showed progress, something to be excited about.

  She filled out the usual paperwork, got the usual spiel about the fertility drugs she needed to take. The receptionist smiled at her, scheduled her next appointment, and Cecilia walked out into the desolate hallway. The doctor’s office shared its floor with a radiology facility, and she saw the various cancer patients coming and going, some looking normal for the most part, despite the look of despair and nausea on their faces, but others looking as if they were knocking on death’s door. Pale, sunken faces, shuffling their feet as they walked down the hall, decrepit fingers clinging to metal walkers.

  Cecilia stood, leaning against the wall, and observed for a few minutes. She envied them. They had a problem, knew exactly what it was, and knew what the outcome would be. Yes, they came to this place for treatment, some it may help, most it wouldn’t, but they knew, had probably come to terms with their inevitable death.

  The doctors continued to tell Cecilia that they had no answers for her, that they couldn’t figure out why she couldn’t bear a child. It could be a lot of things, they would say, or a combination of things.

  A man the color of vanilla pudding, head devoid of all hair, glared at her, and she realized she had been staring at him, lost in her own thoughts. She flushed, cleared her throat and speed-walked into the parking lot.

  “No, they had great things to say about you, but…” Judy, the head midwife, reached across her desk and laid a gentle hand over Cecilia’s, “…they did mention you seemed pretty upset toward the end. Said you were crying.”

  “I know, it’s…it’s inappropriate. I’m sorry, it won’t—”

  “Hey, hey, relax. It’s no big deal, okay?” Judy leaned forward, moved her hand to Cecilia’s forearm, squeezed it. “How did your appointment go?”

  “Same as usual. But it’s pointless. I don’t know why I’m still going.” Tears once again wanted to make an appearance, and she pulled away from Judy and chewed on her tongue. “It’s not meant to be, Judy. I’m understanding that now.”

  “You’re still not in to the adoption thing, huh? Or what about a surrogate?”

  Cecilia shook her head, her thumbnail now picking the space between her two bottom teeth. “It wouldn’t be the same. I want my own child…my own. Raising someone else’s just wouldn’t feel right to me.”

  “But a surrogate is—”

  “I know what it is.” The words came out louder than she’d meant them to, and she cleared her throat and shifted in her seat. “I want to feel my child inside of me. I want to experience the birth. I w-want…”

  “Celia…”

  “No, just don’t, okay? I don’t need any pity right now.” Her fist hammered the desk and Judy’s Sprite toppled over, spilled foamy, sizzling liquid over everything. “Oh shit, Judy. I—”

  The woman swiped about five sheets of Kleenex from the box beside her, sopped up the mess. She held her free hand up and smiled. “Don’t worry about it. It’s fine.”

  Judy lifted the wooden frame that held the photos of her three children, wiped the Sprite from the bottom of it, set it back down next to her wedding photo. Cecilia stared at the toothy kids, all sitting on a swing set, the youngest in the harness swing.

  “Do you need some time off of work? If you do, just tell me. It’s not a problem.” She tossed the sloppy ball of Kleenex into the trash, followed by the soda can. “In fact, I think it’ll do you some good.”

  Cecilia shook her head, eyes still glued to the kids. “No, no I don’t think so. I need to stay busy, need to keep my mind off my own pathetic life.”

  “See, it’s things like that, that make me think you need some time—”

  “I’m sorry. I promise, I’m fine. The last thing I want to do is make you or the others work harder.”

  Judy eyed her for a moment, then her pupils rolled to her laptop screen and her fingertips made keyboard music. “Well, we’ve got a mother who’s just about ready to burst, and she requested you specifically.” Judy squinted at the screen. “So I can tell her you are available?”

  “Yes, of course.”

  “Good. Apparently you were her cousin’s doula a couple of years back, and she had nothing but great things to say about it.”

  A couple of years back I was a different person. Still had hope…still loved life.

  “…triplets.”

  “I’m sorry, what?”

  “She is set to have triplets. It’ll be another hospital birth, with a doctor, so I won’t be there.” She eyed Cecilia for a moment. “I’ll need you to be on call for the next two weeks at least.”

  “N-no problem.” Fucking triplets? “I can’t wait to meet them.”

  Judy shut the laptop, steepled her fingers and rested her wrists on the computer. “You know, there are other…other ways.” Judy half smiled, furrowed her brow. She looked up at Cecilia, but quickly looked away.

  Cecilia stretched her neck to try to find Judy’s eyes again. “I don’t understand.”

  “It’s just…” Judy stared at the floor, then shook her head and displayed a wide grin. “Oh nothing. Don’t listen to me.”

  Judy handed over the couple’s phone number.

  “Give them a call, set up a lunch. And if you need anything,” Judy said. “Or if you change your mind about this, you let me know, all right?”

  “I’ll be fine, Judy. Really, I will.” And with that, Cecilia left the office. The pregnant woman’s phone number burned like she’d put a lit match in her pocket.

  Hey, God. If you’re listening. Fuck you.

  Cecilia sat in her car in Café Brazil’s parking lot, staring up at the rotating sign with its neon steaming coffee cup. She didn’t know what this Francesca Dumervil looked like, or her husband, John, but when the morbidly pregnant woman waddled into the café, her loving husband holding open the door for her, she knew. And she hated them both.

  She almost dialed Judy from her cell phone, explained to her that she had been right, that maybe some time off would be best. Just the thought of going into that café and having to sit through a lunch with this woman, her stomach so swollen she couldn’t fit in a booth, made Cecilia want to scream, smash her face against her steering wheel.

  Francesca would be making frequent restroom visits, as her three little bundles of joy would surely be pressing themselves against her bladder. She would order a nice healthy salad, nutritious for the little ones, and maybe a lemonade. But with real sugar, no chemical sugar substitute, might be bad for the babies, and no tea or coffee, goodness no, because the caffeine could be bad for the babies. And…

  Cecilia laughed, rolled her eyes at her reflection in the rearview mirror. She combed her hair with her fingertips, wiped the grease from either side of her nose, then finally exited her Camry and stepped into the café.

  The smell of coffee lifted her spirits, brought her to attention. Silverware scraped against plates and the air was alive with mixed pieces of conversations. Cecilia salivated, and wanted nothing more at that moment than a nice cup of strong black coffee and a slice of coconut-cream pie.

  She stood in place for an awkward moment, catching a few glances from patrons already seated. Her eyes swept the restau
rant, searching for the glowing woman with the stomach the size of Jupiter.

  “Cecilia?” The voice cut through the other voices like a scalpel, stabbed Cecilia in the left ear.

  She turned toward the voice as her name was called again. Francesca was standing, waving and grinning like an idiot. All those around her spun their necks to glare at the rude shouting woman, but all scowls quickly turned to smiles and nods of approval at the sight of the bulging belly.

  Cecilia weaved her way through the crowd, caught snippets of comments as she went.

  “…about to burst any minute…”

  “…how she’s glowing? Just beautiful…”

  Cecilia ground her teeth as she went, flared her nostrils. Her hands ached from the squeezing fists she couldn’t uncurl. When she finally arrived at the table, John rose to join his wife in welcoming her.

  “It’s very nice to meet both of you,” Cecilia said. “You look about ready to explode.” The couple laughed, shared a loving glance, and Cecilia took a seat before they did.

  Francesca made a show of trying to sit back down, using John’s arm to steady herself with one hand while the other cupped the small of her back. She sort of arched, then finally took her seat, followed by more nods and smiles from those around her.

  Cecilia wanted to puncture the bitch’s stomach with her salad fork.

  “Oh, Beatrice had so many nice things to say about you.” The woman sipped her ice water, chewed on an ice cube. “Said if I ever got pregnant, I absolutely had to get a doula. And she told me to ask for you.”

  “Well, that was very nice of her.” As hard as she tried, Cecilia couldn’t remember a Beatrice. “How’s she doing anyway?”

  “Great. She’s thinking about trying to get pregnant again, actually. Her boy is something else, a handful to say the least.”

  Cecilia nodded and forced a smile. She searched for a waiter so she could get that much-needed cup of coffee.

  “…always giving me advice. I’ve never in my life been given so much advice about something.”

  “Mmm hmm.”

  “And I don’t know what I’d do without John. He’s been pretty damn amazing.”

  The man blushed, patted his wife on the knee. “I told her, you ever give me a baby, I’ll wait on you hand and foot. And she’s giving me three.” He chuckled. “So she gets triple the attention.”

  Cecilia took a sip of water, just then realizing it was sitting in front of her. The glass rattled in her hand and she spilled some down her chin. “It may not be as wonderful as you think, you know.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “I’m sorry?” Cecilia smiled, but the couple’s faces could have cut a roast. Did I say that out loud?

  “What do you mean by that?” John said, wrapping a protective arm around Francesca.

  I did say it out loud, Cecilia thought. But fuck these people.

  “Yeah, I see a lot of happy couples, just like you two. But once your baby decides to squeeze itself out, there’s not a lot of smiling. Do you have a high threshold for pain?” She took another sip of water. “And you’re having three? Shit, good luck. And you can definitely expect some serious tearing.”

  “What is wrong with you?” Francesca held her stomach as if Cecilia’s words could poison her babies. “I think you should leave.”

  “But of course you could always opt for the C-section. With three babies coming out of you, it might not be a bad idea. They just numb you all up, slice you open, move all the guts out of the way and yank the little darlings right out.”

  “Get the fuck out of here,” John said. “And we’ll be calling Judy about this, you can count on that.”

  Cecilia stood, stepped toward the woman and pointed a sharp finger. “What the hell are you going to do with three babies, huh? Three? You make me sick. You both make me sick.”

  And she stormed out. The restaurant had gone silent, not a single scrape on a plate, not a word spoken. All eyes and ears were on Cecilia. The moment she stepped back outside and the glass door swung closed behind her, she saw that conversations had ignited once again, and she knew she was the subject of every one of them. She passed the windows on the way to her car, glanced in once and saw that most were still watching her, saw that Francesca was crying into John’s shoulder. The man rubbed her head, locked eyes with Cecilia and squinted.

  Judy’s gonna love this.

  She nearly backed into an oncoming pickup as she reversed from her parking spot, then spun her tires out when she mashed her foot on the gas pedal. Her cell phone would be ringing any minute now, she was sure. The couple would be giving Judy an earful right about now, telling her everything, how Cecilia should be fired, should never be assigned to another couple again.

  And they would be right. She couldn’t stop herself in there. Those people did nothing wrong, had every right in the world to be overly excited about their pregnancy. Nothing they said was out of the ordinary from any other couple Cecilia had ever worked with; they did nothing to condescend to her or belittle her. Besides, they didn’t know her. They wouldn’t know about her problems, wouldn’t know that every time they beamed at each other, every time Francesca ran a loving hand over her belly, Cecilia was ready to run from the café screaming. And when it was all said and done, she pretty much had.

  She wanted to go home, wanted to hide under her covers and drown in her sorrows. A quick contemplation of swallowing every pill in her cupboard stabbed at her brain, but she couldn’t do that. Not only was she too much of a coward to go through with anything like that, but that tiny little voice was there, as always, injecting wee doses of hope at the back of her mind.

  “You can’t kill yourself. What if the procedure worked? What if you have a baby growing inside of you right now?” the voice said.

  “Fuck! Fuckfuckfuckfuck…” The light just ahead of her turned red, and she barely slammed on her brakes in time before smashing into the van in front of her. From the van’s back window, two children’s faces appeared, smiling at her with gap-toothed grins.

  She tilted her head back, ran her fingers through her hair and yanked. Thick sobs oozed from her throat, propped her mouth open as the despair poured out. Tears rushed down her face, some sucking into her nose as she sniffled.

  The honk behind her brought her back to reality, and she saw that the van in front of her was disappearing into the distance, and the light was green. She threw up an apologetic hand, then drove straight for Judy’s office.

  She could only hope the woman would understand, would be empathetic, though Cecilia knew she didn’t deserve it.

  Judy sat at her desk, massaging her temples, when Cecilia walked in. The woman looked up at her, didn’t even try to fake a smile and directed her to sit down.

  “Judy, I don’t know what to say. I don’t know what came over me.”

  “They were very upset, you know. The role of a doula is to nurture them, make them feel comfortable about what’s happening to them, the changes they’re going through.”

  Cecilia felt like a child being sent to the corner, but she was in no position to say anything back, so she just nodded.

  “Jesus, Celia, you used to be my best, my go-to girl.” Judy stood, approached Cecilia, her hard, tight face relaxing a bit as she took a seat beside her. “Why don’t you talk to me, huh? I’d like to think we’re friends after all these years. Tell me what’s going on with you.”

  I’m not going to cry. I’ve cried too goddamn much.

  “Is there a problem with Frank? Is he not taking this well?”

  Cecilia bit her lip, slid the wedding ring from her finger. “Frank left me over a year ago.”

  “He what?”

  “I was so embarrassed I couldn’t tell you, couldn’t tell anyone. He told me he needed someone that could give him a family, and that he loved me and he was sorry, then he just left.”


  “That son of a bitch.” Judy reached across her desk and plucked a Kleenex, handed it to Cecilia.

  Cecilia shed no tears and told the story as if it were fiction. It was the first time any of it was spoken aloud, but she wouldn’t let it get to her. Not anymore. She balled the Kleenex up and squeezed it as she continued. “I don’t blame him, you know. I really don’t. He married me with the intention of having a family, and I couldn’t provide him with that.”

  “Don’t you dare justify his actions. He’s an asshole, and he should never have left you like that. Like this is your fault?” Judy threw her hands in the air. “Unbelievable.”

  “I still want a baby. With or without him, I still want a child. But I can’t have one.”

  Judy wrapped an arm around Cecilia, leaned in and whispered, “You can.”

  “I already told you, adoption isn’t an option for me. And a surrogate just seems…weird. I couldn’t live with that.”

  “I’m not talking about any of that, Celia. There’s…something else. Something very few people know about. Something a little more…unconventional.”

  Once again, Judy wouldn’t look Cecilia in the eyes, and suddenly the air in the room seemed colder, sending tickling chills across Cecilia’s skin. “Judy, what are you talking about?” Images of Nicolas Cage with panty hose stretched over his head in Raising Arizona flashed through her mind. “You’re not talking about…stealing—”

  “No, of course not. At least, not in the way you’re thinking.”

  Cecilia unsheathed herself from Judy’s embrace. “Thank you for your concern, and thank you for listening, but you’re freaking me out. I only came here to apologize for my behavior and to see if I was fired.”

  “Calm down, okay? It’s me, it’s Judy. Okay? I’m not trying to freak you out, it’s just…I know about something. I know about a way to help you.”

  “I don’t think I want to hear any more about this.”

  Judy nodded, stood, found her seat behind her desk again. “I think maybe it’s best if you accompany me to the next birth. No more hospital births. I don’t know if you should be alone right now, and, to be honest, I could use the extra hands.” Her voice had gone from soft, almost-whispered concern to all business and hard-edged words.