A short story

© GB 1998

The child was gently put down to sleep in the old crib.

It was a beautiful baby, a boy, soft blond hair, rosy cheeks and delightfully chubby. The hands, wearing black gloves, stroke the little boy’s head and tucked him in, using the old quilt in the crib.

The only sound in the room was the baby’s soft breath and the whispering sound of the drapes in the open window.

Morning came and the alarm clock went off with a deafening sound. Alyssa rolled over to her back and rubbed her face with both hands. She had no desire to leave the warm bed and make breakfast. With a sigh she rose and put on her morning robe. A glance out the window confirmed the weather being as grey and boring as the day before. Heavy, dark clouds filled the sky and rain was in the air.

A quick visit to the bathroom, she fixed her hair in a simple ponytail and then headed for the kitchen. As she passed the closed door in the hallway she heard a tiny sound. She stopped and listened. At first she couldn’t hear anything but as she started to walk toward the stairs she heard it again. A faint sound coming from the closed door.

She turned with her heart pounding and slowly walked up to the door. It was closed, it always was, and locked.

She turned the key and opened the door, just a little bit, reluctant as always to go in there.

"Is anyone there?" she asked feeling silly. Of course nobody was there.

She peeked inside the room and at first she didn’t notice anything different. Then, with a chill down her spine, she saw the window was open. Not much, but enough for the curtains to move in the small breeze.

"Hello?"

She was frightened now, all the small hairs on her body was standing up straight. Someone was definitely in the room. With a deep breath she took one step into the room. Everything seemed to be in the same way she left it, dusty but organised. The crib by the window, the bookshelf with toys and books, the wallpaper with little elephants, the soft carpets. Then she saw something move in the corner of her eye and took a step back, startled.

The quilt that were lying in the crib, her mother had made it, moved. She gasped and took one more step back. Was she going crazy? Was all the pain finally too much for her, sending her over the edge?

The tiny sound, now more clearly, was heard again. It came from the crib.

This isn’t happening, this isn’t happening, a hysteric voice kept repeating in her head. This is impossible.

Her hands tightly over her mouth to prevent the sobbing from leaving her lips she stepped closer to the crib. Tears filled her eyes, she could hardly see, but still the sight that met her was clear although unbelievable.

A baby was lying in the crib. A baby was lying in her son’s crib. A baby was lying in her dead son’s crib.

She fell to her knees next to the crib, moaning and just staring, couldn’t take her eyes of the baby. He was beautiful. But he couldn’t be there, it was impossible.

The baby started crying and she fell back on the floor. It sounded like a genuine cry. It sounded real.

She crawled on hands and knees to the crib and looked at it. It, she thought, I don’t even know if this is truly happening, let alone if it is a boy or a girl.

Hesitating she reached out and touched the baby’s cheek. Immediately the little rosebud mouth search in that direction.

"You are hungry", Alyssa whispered.

At the sound of her voice the baby became silent. It looked up at her face with big, blue eyes and an adorable smile formed on its lips. Like it knew her.

She shook her head and backed off, out of sight.

The baby started crying again and she threw herself forward, afraid of the feeling of abandonment the baby expressed. This time she put both her hands around its cheeks.

"There, there…"

It became silent again and smiled again.

"Oh", Alyssa moaned. "What is this? What shall I do with you? Where did you come from?"

Afraid and trembling she reached down in the crib and lifted the baby up in her arms. He was about three or four months old, she guessed, and naked and wet under the quilt. It was a boy.

"You need a bath", she said, her voice shaking.

He seemed to agree and smiled again, reaching for her long ponytail. His grip was firm, like baby’s are. Her son had done the same and the familiar tug at her hair made her bite her lip. No more tears. She had cried a lifetime of tears already.

She rose to her feet and carried the boy to take him to the bathroom. There she washed him and wrapped a towel around his chubby body. She was not ready to put Gordon’s clothes on this baby. A towel around him was enough.

He rested his head against her shoulder like he belonged there.

In the kitchen she opened the cabinet where she stored groceries, looking for an old package of formula. She had not thrown anything away after Gordon died although more than a year had gone by. She didn’t know if the date had expired but at least he would have a full stomach.

She made the formula and also reluctant to use Gordon’s bottles, she fed him with a little spoon. He didn’t mind. Like a little angel he drank from the spoon as if he’d never seen food before. While she fed him her thoughts whirled like leaves in autumn in her head.

She had to call the police. They were going to think she was mad, telling them she found a baby in her nursery. What if they thought she had kidnapped him and then had second thoughts? What if they arrested her?

She could picture their reasoning. A bereaved mother going off the deep end and taking someone’s baby. In a store or in a market, perhaps. Could it possibly be like that? Was she going insane and had she taken the baby the day before without knowing it, without being aware of it?

No, no… she had not been out of the house for days. She had been sitting in front of her computer, writing on the last short story for the magazine for which she freelanced. She had struggled with her characters and finally made some progress.

The writing was what kept her sane. She lost herself in her work and in her make believe world and then the pain had harder to find her. In the evenings the pain found her easily. It came when she was just about to fall asleep and tormented her and made her dream of the happy times only to wake up and feel the loss all over again.

And now this. A baby appears in a locked room. No, not locked, she remembered. The window was open a little. But it was upstairs. Anyone could easily climb up using the big tree outside, but with a baby? And why?

She got up and went upstairs again. The boy was asleep in her arm, but she simply couldn’t let go of him. What if he disappeared?

In the nursery everything was as she left it. She went up to the window. It was open just a little bit and nothing could be seen on it. No marks of breaking in. Alyssa opened it.

The tree outside, an old birch was close to the wall. Sometimes if it was windy or stormy she could hear the tree’s branches against the wall. It looked all right. No broken branches or marks as far as she could see.

She leaned out a little and looked at the ground. No footprints in the flowerbed. No footprints on the frosty lawn.

Her only close neighbour, a musician living five hundred yards down the road, could maybe have seen or heard something, she thought.

"Shall we call that crazy man?" she whispered quietly to the baby. "I could say I was minding my cousin’s baby. I don’t have any cousins but he doesn’t know that. I could ask him if he saw anyone sneaking around here tonight. I could say… that someone took the air out of my tires, or something."

Her eyes constantly returned to the boy’s face. He looked so content, so at home in her arms.

Okay, she thought, you can’t live your life in a towel. You can borrow some of Gordon’s clothes.

This was a big step but once she had thought about it, it was easy. She looked in the drawers and found some nappies and a light-blue velvet romper suit. He didn’t wake up when she dressed him and he looked absolutely adorable.

Alyssa then opened a closet and took out a baby-lift. For a moment she could see little Gordon lying in it, sound asleep, sucking on his pacifier. She shook her head to clear her mind and put the boy in the baby-lift. She brought him with her to the front porch where she put him down on the wooden bench. She could see him all the way to the car where she let the air out of two of the tyres. There, now she had a reason to call her neighbour.

On her way back to the porch she stopped and listened. It was so quiet. Strange. Not a sound, even from the wind. Like she was the all alone. Trying to shake the feeling she returned to the bench and sat down beside the baby.

He looked so much like Gordon her heart jumped. He had also been chubby and blond with blue eyes. In fact, the more she looked at him, the more alike this child became. It must be wishful thinking; she thought and rubbed her arms in the cold wind. Better take the boy inside even if he is tucked in a warm blanket.

Back in the kitchen she looked up her neighbour’s phone-number and dialled. Nervously twisting the cord around her fingers she waited for him to pick up.

"Yeah? Hello?"

His voice was husky and abrupt. She couldn’t think for a moment but then cleared her throat.

"Mr Remick?" she asked. "Sorry if I woke you up, this is Alyssa Blake, your neighbour up the road."

"Miss Blake? Oh, right. What can I do for you?"

No small talks here.

"Hmm… I have had visitors tonight. Someone let the air out of two of my tyres. I just wondered if you have seen or heard anything out of the ordinary?"

"No. I was up until midnight tried to work, and I never notice anything then. And then I showered and went to sleep. Sorry, can’t help you there."

"Oh. I was hoping you might have seen something. This is pretty scary."

"I can imagine. Do you want me to come up and have a look?"

"No, no. I mean it was probably some teenagers. A stupid prank."

"Probably, but you sound very upset and nervous. Are you sure you are all right about this?"

He sounded really concerned. Alyssa could picture him, with his long hair tangled and curious about this annoying woman he was talking to on the phone.

"One more thing", she said, hesitating. "Have you noticed how quiet it is? When I was outside I couldn’t hear a sound. Not one bird was singing and not even the wind made a sound. And I realised when I got inside that all the little noises in the house have become silent too."

"Silence?"

She could hear his thoughts. He thought she was nuts.

"I’m sorry, I’m not making any sense. Probably my imagination running wild here."

"No, that is all right, Mrs Blake." His voice was gentle and patient. The way you talk to a child with a bad temper. "I think I will come over anyway, just to see that you are okay. You sound really worried."

She gave in with a sigh.

"I will make some coffee", she offered. "At least you won’t come totally in vain."

He laughed a little and they hang up.

Alyssa checked on the baby, he was still asleep looking very safe and content. And so like Gordon. Her eyes narrowed and she bent over him to take a closer look. The boy had a little birthmark beneath his left ear. A arrow-shaped birthmark pointing at his earlobe… Just like Gordon. Alyssa took a step back with her hands tightly pressed against her chest. Her heart raced and she could hardly breath. It was impossible. Two babies couldn’t have the same exact birthmark. No way…

She looked again. It was still there. She had kissed Gordon right on that birthmark so many, many times; there was no mistake. It had looked exactly like that.

Tears started running down her cheeks. What was going on? Who played this trick on her? What horrible, devilish plan was taking place here, in her house?

The knocking on the door made her jump and give a little cry.

"Mrs. Blake?"

Byron Remick. Another human being to at least show her she was not loosing it here.

She flung the door open and threw herself in his arms without thinking.

"Thank God, you are here!" she said fiercely and grabbed at his leather jacket. "I don’t understand. Everything is crazy… or I am!"

He pulled her with him through the kitchen door and closed it behind them.

"Calm down. Tell me what is going on?"

"I lied. I lied about the tyres."

"Okay. You lied. Why?"

"The baby. I found the baby. In the crib in Gordon’s room. I keep the door locked to Gordon’s room and this morning I heard a cry and there he was. A baby. A strange baby I have never seen before. The window was open but nothing was touch, except the quilt in the crib. And then I noticed he looked more and more like Gordon and now he also has the same birthmark under his ear… oh, Mr Remick, Byron… This isn’t happening? Is it Gordon? Has he come back?"

She broke down, sobbing against his chest.

"Show me the baby, Alyssa." Byron’s calm voice cut through her hysteria.

"Here." She showed him the baby-lift. "Look. You remember Gordon? Look."

He looked at the baby and gently touched his cheek. The little boy smiled and kept on sleeping.

"I saw your son a couple of times. But it was a couple of years ago and only two, three occasions. I can’t judge any resemblance."

"No, of course you can’t", she said. "But I can. I can see my son’s face whenever I close my eyes and he looked exactly like this little boy. And it is not my imagination. I have photos to prove it."

She left the kitchen and then returned with an enlarged picture in an old silver-frame. A smiling baby was lying on a blanket looking at the photographer. She was right. The resemblance was overwhelming.

"Jesus." Byron stared at the picture and then at the baby in the baby-lift.

"Yes", Alyssa said and hugged herself.

For a moment they didn’t move. Like time had frozen they just stood in her kitchen, listening to a silence that wrapped around them like a wall of cotton.

Finally Alyssa spoke.

"Yesterday evening, I was more depressed than ever. I had a boring day, without any inspiration for my writing. When I was going to bed I thought; what’s the use? Why continue? I lost Gordon, I lost Bill, I drove him away with my sorrow, accused him of not caring, not like I did, when Gordon died. I have been beating myself up with guilt and remorse. He died in his sleep and I wasn’t there to help him. My little boy died all alone in the night when I was sleeping. I felt my life was over and that I didn’t care if I never woke up again."

Byron looked at her in a strange way and then he sat down on a chair next to the baby.

"I have been isolating myself, withdrawing from the world", he said monotonously. "Like you I spent last night challenging my very existence. I have no fire anymore, no inspiration. I would sit down at the piano and stare at the keys… and nothing. No music would appear in my head like before. Last night I was also desperate. I haven’t composed in over a year and I have taken it out on everybody, family and friends."

He rubbed his forehead.

"Why do we see this so clearly now, both of us? What is different from yesterday, besides this baby?"

"I don’t know. It is like I can look at myself from the outside. I still have these feelings, but it is not the same despair. The world seems the same, but I feel so different. And then there is this silence…"

"Yes. Once you mentioned it to me I noticed it too. The silence I experienced in my head is all around now. And it is not as hard, makes it a bit easier."

The baby stirred and opened his eyes. Bright and blue they focused on the man and the woman at the table. He smiled and his little arms waved as to get their attention.

"Hi, little guy", Alyssa said and picked him up. "Did you have a good nap?"

He blew adorable little bubbles and smiled again. She buried her face closed to his and smelled his scent. He was warm and soft… her heart swelled.

Byron smiled at them and reached for the baby. Alyssa passed the boy over to him and was amazed to see the tenderness on Byron’s face when he held him.

"I will go up and get dressed. Will you look after him for me?" she asked.

"Yes, go ahead."

She went upstairs. The hallway was filled with shadows. The silence was there, like she wore earplugs or something, but it was very peaceful.

She entered the bedroom and headed for the window to pull away the drapes. The grey light from outside flooded the room. She looked out the window and her garden was quiet and not a branch was moving. It had been windy this morning but now it was very calm outside.

She turned to go into the bathroom and gasped in shock. Someone was lying under the sheets and blankets in her bed. The blood seemed to drain her from her head and landed in her stomach with a loud thud. A scream forced its way to her vocal cords and out between her lips.

She screamed and screamed and in the back of her head scattered information reached her. The quick footsteps up the stairs… the long hair on the pillow… the baby starting to cry…

She took a step back and one more until she had her back pressed to the window.

"Alyssa! What is going on?"

Byron’s voice was worried.

She could only point at the bed.

"Look!"

He looked and jerked.

"Who is that?"

"I don’t know, I don’t know…", Alyssa moaned, hysteria quickly building up.

Byron handed her the baby and took step towards the bed. He carefully touched the body on top of the blanket. No movement. He gently pulled the sheets from the person’s head and looked down the tangled hair. The woman, it looked like a woman way lying on her stomach with one arm hanging outside the mattress. He grabbed her and slowly turned her on her back. And then he jumped back and stared at Alyssa with disbelief in his eyes.

"What?" she asked fiercely. "What? Who is she?"

He couldn’t speak. Just shook his head and unsteadily leaned against the wall.

Alyssa was terrified by the look in his eyes but walked closer, rocking the upset baby in her arms at the same time.

She came around the bed and braced herself. She looked down on the bed.

And stared at herself. The woman in the bed was without any colour at all. She didn’t make a sound or breath. She had Alyssa’s night-gown on, exactly like the one she had under her bathrobe. On the dresser there was three small medicine-jars. All empty.

The information was hard to take in. Her knees trembled and her mouth was so dry, words were impossible, but at least she had stopped screaming.

She stood still for several seconds and took in the whole unbelievable scene in front of her. She could hear Byron breathing heavily, trying to stay calm.

"So I finally did it", she said. "I finally went ahead and put a stop to all the pain and misery."

"What are you talking about?" asked Byron hoarsely.

"See for yourself. It is I and I am dead. That is why Gordon is here. I am dead and so is he. He is back with me because we are both dead."

"Now you are crazy."

"No. You know I am not. You just don’t want to accept it. You know what the logical consequence is."

He frowned at her and rubbed his neck. His long hair was still tangled after being dragged out of bed so hastily.

"And what do you think the logical consequence is?" he asked dryly.

She looked at him with soft eyes and tons of compassion.

"Dear Byron. You are dead too."

He gasped and took one step towards the door. Then he turned around and ran like the devil was after him.

She stood where she was first, rocking the baby.

"Gordon, my sweetie, I am so glad you are back. Have you missed mummy?" She started to walk. The shadows in the hallway didn’t bother her at all anymore. She went through the kitchen, picked up the blanket from the baby-lift on her way. The kitchen door didn’t make its usual squeaky noise when she opened it. Making tender little remarks to the now calm and happy baby in her arms she sat down on the wooden bench and waited.

"He’ll come back soon, Gordon", she whispered and held him tight.

And she was proved right. It wasn’t long before she saw him slowly walking up her garden path. His face was pale and resigned. And his shoes against the shingle didn’t make a sound.

END