A Little Teapot (Fiction)
The light slanted through the shades, creating a prison-bar pattern across Amber’s inert body. She rolled over, pulling the covers up to hide her face from the light. She could hear Sarah in the living room; her daughter was quietly humming along with the television.
Amber knew she should get up, make some breakfast, start their day. She couldn’t seem to make herself, though. She thought she could be happy – or as close to happy as she may ever be – if only she could stay in bed forever. She let herself succumb to her desire, and stretched out with a sigh.
Sarah’s humming had become singing, and Amber could picture her girl’s blonde ringlets bouncing as chubby hands made the motions: “I’m a little teapot, short and stout…”
Amber closed her eyes to ward off tears. Sarah should have had a playmate. She had been promised one – a little brother to keep her company. She remembered the first time she’d felt the stirring in her womb, reassuring her that the last five years’ barrenness had finally ended, that all of her prayers and doctor’s visits and meticulousness had paid off. She had been driving to her mom’s home in Port Angeles. “Just a quick visit to see Grandma,” she’d told Sarah. The rain had pummeled the windshield, fog drifting across the highway. “I can hardly see anything,” she’d muttered. And then, her stomach had turned and she’d known. She had been certain.
As a grin had spread across her face she heard a “pop,” and she’d gripped the wheel as their sedan began swerving across the slick road. She’d gotten it under control and pulled off to the side. “Mommy will be right back,” she’d told Sarah, stepping out into the angry, freezing rain. Praise God Tony had taught her how to change tires, and she had done so as deftly as she could manage in the dark, foggy night. Despite the bad luck – the weather, the flat – nothing had been able to dampen her good mood. After climbing back into the car, she had sat for several minutes, her hands resting on her belly, letting herself imagine she could feel the heartbeat which was not her own.
Here in her bed, her hands again rested on her flat belly, where once that heartbeat really had pounded against her palm. She’d done everything right, but it hadn’t been enough. She had miscarried at four months. Tony had been devastated, but he handled it differently. He disappeared to the office, where he could keep his mind off things with business. Even two months later, Amber felt like she couldn’t breathe, couldn’t move.
She heard a shuffling at the door, and there stood Sarah, silhouetted against the light behind her. The sun created an aura about her, setting her ringlets glinting like strands of fine gold.
“Mommy?” Sarah asked.
“Come here, Baby,” Amber said, sitting up and patting the covers next to her. Sarah bounded across the room and onto the bed. She wrapped her arms around Amber’s shoulders and buried her face in Amber’s neck. “I love you, Mommy,” she whispered, her little voice muffled against Amber’s skin, her breath tickling.
