Golden Gooses

3

     Miranda woke up groggily with a firm presence enveloping her hand. It was Timothy holding her hand, fast asleep. She smiled and shifted her body in the bed, sitting sideways on the edge of it. She untangled her haywire hair after such strenuous labor, combing her hair through her fingers. No longer feeling the warmth of his wife, Timothy woke up soon after. He looked around at the room half asleep, perplexed. He spotted his wife lowering herself off the bed, looking frail. He stood up and walked over to her, giving her his shoulder to lean on. "Whoa whoa whoa, careful. You're still fatigued." "Where's our baby?" She asked, rubbing her eyes. "Slow down, he's in the nursery down in the hallway on the left. We can go there now if you want." He explained. She nodded lazily, sinking into her husband's arm while clutching onto him. "I get you're tired, but this much? You just had a 4-hour nap." He teased. "You tell me how tired is too tired when you push a watermelon out of your dick." She poked back. Miranda limped out of the hospital room with Timothy to go meet their new baby boy.

     They drifted among the unfamiliar and intimidating halls of the cold hospital. Miranda was still in nothing but a hospital gown and shorts. They looked for the nursery, somehow getting lost. They glanced in every direction, seeing nothing but cold white walls and hearing nothing but rhythmic beeps every few seconds from the machinery, with the occasional puff of air from oxygen tanks. They took a right reluctantly, and came across a wall with glass viewing windows. They slunk over and peeked through the windows to see an array of babies lined up in front of the windows, with wristbands on. "Is this the nursery?" Miranda asked, tugging on Timothy's flannel. "Looks like it." He answered, searching for something. "Where's our son?" She asked again, her questions becoming incessant. "I don't know, the doctor said his wristband should have the number 67 on it because you fell asleep before naming him." He replied snidely. "Oh, all right." She chuckled as her face flushed red, embarrassed. She silently searched among the children's wristbands. She tapped on the glass enthusiastically. "Is that him?" She proposed happily, looking between the baby and Timothy. He inspected where she pointed, noticing the wristband with a navy blue "67" on it. "Seems like it," he agreed, a satisfied smirk. Miranda put her hand on the glass and looked down at the child lovingly, noting his light pink strands strewn about his head. He had big brown eyes looking back at Miranda and Timothy. Timothy turned to Miranda, placing his hand on her cheek, grazing her thumb against her eye. "He has your eyes." He said, smiling. "You big dork!" Miranda giggled as she shoved Timothy away jokingly. She turned back to their son. She rested her head against the glass, contemplating something. Timothy drew closer, putting his arm around her shoulder. "What's on your mind?" He pondered. "What we should name him.." She replied, deep in thought. Timothy fell quiet, thinking of ideas. "Evan!" Miranda suddenly exclaimed. "Huh?" Timothy asked, caught off-guard. "We should name him Evan!" She suggested. Timothy's nose scrunched up with hesitance. Miranda put her hands on her hip sassily, feigning offense. "What's wrong with the name Evan?" She took her hands off her hips and put them on Timothy's chest. "Are you too good to have a son named Evan?" She teased, squinting. He pat her head, squishing her a bit. "Calm down firecracker, Evan's a good name." "Glad we're on the same page." She said triumphantly. "I'll go get a nurse to give us a birth certificate." Timothy volunteered, already walking off. "Don't go lost!" She exclaimed behind him, turning back to Evan while cherishing such a lovely sight.