Butterfly's Year

37. Baby

I had nothing against children. At least nothing against those that weren't mine. Only the specter of being pregnant and becoming a mother terrified me infinitely. This thought scared me to the point where I couldn't sleep normally or be in the same room with the potential father of this potential child. Not to mention informing him if it were true. My life turned upside down and immense loneliness. That's all pregnancy and motherhood meant to me.

That day, I felt exactly like I did nearly a year ago when I entered the autopsy room after a night spent with Victor. And ironically, another autopsy was being prepared.

The pathologist leading the class took us to the morgue and got to work without unnecessary formalities.

I glanced at the autopsy table and at first thought it was a somewhat tasteless joke. There lay a tiny body that looked like it had never lived. This little human resembled a wax doll so much that it was inconceivable to me that it had ever been alive. The child, according to the instructor, was only eight months old. The small wax doll lay on the autopsy table, and it seemed as if it had never breathed.

The pathologist took a saw, and from the tiny skull, a brain poured out onto the spotlessly clean table. Its consistency did not resemble the brains I had seen in other autopsies.

– A beautiful example of brain softening – the pathologist's fascinated voice reached me as if from afar. – Please, come closer if you want to take a closer look.

To my surprise, I didn't even feel like vomiting. I approached, and the little creature inside me concluded what I had. This could not be a real child. There could never have been life in such a small puppet.

But there was. The child lay there dead, though it had probably cried after birth and woke its parents. When it was still in its mother's womb, she felt its kicks. My stomach hurt from the thought, and now I felt nauseous.

It had developed in its mother's uterus, was born, loved, and then died. She probably didn't feel relief. She wasn't afraid of having this child and mourned its loss. This child likely wasn't the end of the world for her. And now, someone was cutting it up so others could learn from her little miracle how a pathologically changed brain looked.

I smiled wryly to myself, certainly not from joy. What irony of fate. When I was most afraid of a living, developing child, I had the opportunity to see a dead one being dissected. Brrr.

I somehow made it to the end of the class and was actually glad I didn't have to drive because Alec would do it for me. I was so drained that I preferred to just sit in the passenger seat and mindlessly stare out the window at pedestrians and cars.

Alec, to my relief, wasn't talkative on the way back. It wasn't until we were in the elevator that he decided to play psychologist.

– What's going on? – he asked while I was busy examining the tips of my shoes, just to avoid eye contact and not encourage conversation.

Disturbing images kept replaying in my mind, and paranoid thoughts reminded me that I had a uterus. Who knew what was happening in it right now, and I didn't have the strength to go to the pharmacy for a test.

– And what's supposed to be? – I answered with a heavy heart.

Alec didn't respond immediately. I avoided his gaze, but I was sure he was now scrutinizing me intently, analyzing me.

– Look at me – he said in a caring tone, but I didn't fulfill his request. – Hey, Paula – he snapped his fingers in front of my nose.

– Oh, Alec, give it a rest – I muttered, looking away at the wall. – Can't I have a bad day?

But he didn't give up so easily.

– Look at me – he demanded, tilting my chin so I had to look at him. – You're scared.

He said it with such certainty that there was no point in denying it, but I didn't intend to admit it either.

– Victor got me a bodyguard and psychologist in one – I retorted sarcastically.

– I just know you a bit – Alec stated gently, showing no signs of offense. – I know when you're scared.

The little creature inside me rolled its eyes. The expert on female nature and my soul had clung on. Just because we used to sleep together didn't mean he could read me well, let alone understand me.

– Yeah, you all know – I snapped, losing the last bit of patience – but you're never able to handle what I'm supposedly afraid of.

The elevator doors opened, so I headed to the apartment door without looking back even once.

– That's why I'm here – Alec responded, slightly confused, catching up to me. – To protect you when your boyfriend can't.

I stopped abruptly in the middle of the beautiful living room and angrily threw my bag with a few books onto the floor.

– You can't protect me from this – I stated firmly, bravely holding back the raspiness that heralded a wave of sobs. – Neither you nor him. It's partly because you exist. I'm going to take a bath, and please don't bother me.

With that said, I left the confused Alec in the middle of the living room and headed down the hallway to the bathroom. As soon as I shut the door, I burst into suppressed sobs. I felt awful; my stomach ached from stress, and I didn't even have the strength to check if this stress was justified because I was too scared.