“I won’t call it that, though,” Naomi said unprompted.
Lavender blinked, confused, “You won’t call what, what?”
“The baby. I won’t call it ‘Hope’ or ‘Faith’ or any other cheesy, hopes-for-the-future type name like this was all same lousy B movie on T.V or something,”
Lavender laughed. A genuine, unguarded guffaw that made her belly hurt. It felt good after such a long time of anguish. Naomi laughed along with her, resting her arm on Lavender’s shoulder and leaning into her. When they had recovered, Lavender asked:
“Then what will you call it?”
“I don’t know. Something cool and tough sounding, like Xena or Bridget or Gloria. Hey, Gloria. I like that,”
“Gloria,” Lavender tested the name out loud, “What if it’s a boy?”
“Hmm,” Naomi mused, “I don’t know. I haven’t thought much about boy’s names. It won’t be ‘Joel,’ or anything that even starts with a J, I can promise you that!”
“No,” Lavender said, serious again, “Not Carson either, please Naomi? I couldn’t stand that,”
Naomi linked her arm through Lavender’s, resting her head on her shoulder, “Not Carson either; I promise,”
They sat there like that a long while, drawing warmth and strength from one another, looking up at a clear sky dotted with stars, listening to the lull of the waves.
Tomorrow, whatever the temperature, Lavender resolved to walk into that ocean. She would let it wash her clean, she would rinse her mouth out with its saltiness, hold her nose and duck her head so she was totally submerged. She would rub her scalp fresh and new, remove all trace of blood, bone and the other things that tainted her. She would scrub her very soul clean, if she could. Then would she would come out cold, fresh and new.
Ready to start again.
Mindless Trilogy (Book 3): Brutal Truths Page 19