Monday, July 8, 2013

Rebecca's Knots: flash fiction for you

I submitted this for a July Flash Fiction contest, responding to its 7/9 prompt:  angels, light, new, mother, trees, art, second, affectionate.

Rebecca’s Knots


The July mid-day light glared on the silky waterfall in front of the Phoenix Art Museum.  Rebecca was taking advantage of the new “children’s corner” event at the museum with the hope that playing with other children would offer Samantha some calming moments..  Usually an affectionate child, lately her two year old was becoming something of diva. Rebecca imagined that Samantha sensed something odd was happening as Mommy’s belly bump continued its daily balloon-sized expansion.  A second child was on the way, and although Rebecca considered herself an affectionate mother with Samantha, she wasn’t gleeful about number two coming along so quickly after number one.  It was that damn trip to the White Mountains that did it: sitting under the golden aspen trees last fall rippling through the canyons.  Mike had coaxed her into a spontaneous moment and, since she was breast feeding, she thought that would give her the coital cover she needed.  It hadn’t.  So when she learned she was pregnant, she consulted the three glass angels on her bookshelf for guidance:  should she make an appointment for a pre-natal check-up with her GYN or go to Planned Parenthood to terminate this mistake?  The angels had nodded and danced in the midnight moon glow and Rebecca wasn’t sure how to interpret their responses.  She waited a few days and then the realization came to her that a mistake or not, she could do nothing more or less than go with this baby.  But she told her doctor “once you deliver, I want you to tie up those tubes into the tightest knots your tools can twist.”  He had laughed and they made the pact he would keep.  As for Mike, aspen trees were off-limits until both children were out of diapers and she had re-started her degree in art history.

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