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By Selena Perkins
James awoke to a faint gasp from his pregnant wife. Bursting actually would
be a better word for her. At eight months pregnant, new curves seemed to bud
all over, adding to her once slender figure. To James, she embodied femininity-
he had to constantly restrain himself from kissing her neck and running his
callused hands along her belly in public. He hated the way she only undressed
in the dark; he hated her shame in the poetic body she now possessed.
This morning she seemed to have forgotten her embarrassment. Still lying
in bed, suffocated by layers of comforters and electric blankets, James watched
his wife gaze out at the first snow. She stood draped solely in a silk slip-
her robe left forgotten on the door for the first time in almost six months.
“Come on, let’s go outside!” she exclaimed, with the sense of adventure James
had almost forgotten. She once carried this excitement with her wherever she
went, but now her magnetic personality lay hidden behind layers of insecurity.
She stared out the window just a second longer before shuffling past the expectant
bassinet and down the stairs.
James tried to wake himself up as, from the upstairs window, he heard his
wife burst out of the sliding door that opened into their backyard. She stared
out into the white expanse that had yesterday been painted all shades of green.
James watched as she stretched out her arms, craning her neck to the sky.
James slipped his feet into his slippers after digging around for them under
the bed and stood up, grunting. Still dumb-founded by his mysteriously rejuvenated
wife, he stumbled down the stairs and out onto the back porch. It wasn’t until
James was outside that he noticed the sun hadn’t even fully risen yet. The
flaming globe lay sandy-eyed on the horizon, still half asleep.
James took in the crisp air and the murky sky—his wife lost in the abyss,
off in the distance, rejoicing at the first true sign of winter. He took in
the snowflakes pouring down, christening him. As he reached out to catch one,
a big fat flake landed in the middle of his palm. As James drew his hand closer
to examine the snowflake’s delicate curves, its subtle flaws, it melted into
a miniature pool of slush. It was then that James heard his wife scream. He
ran towards her instinctively, adrenaline threatening to overflow and leak
from his pores.
“James!” she shouted. “My water just broke!”
Out of breath, he reached her, and draped his arm around her strained shoulders.
She fell into the comfort of his arms. Murmuring into her ear about proper
breathing and his undying love for her, James led her to the red Volvo sitting
idly in the driveway. The car mocked him with its serenity; it had no sympathy
for the sudden anxiety thrust upon James and his wife. James carefully loaded
her into the car, making sure she was as comfortable as possible. He then
dashed to the other side, jumped in, and rushed to the hospital, cringing
at each labor moan and whimper. At this time in the morning, the snowy roads
had begun to develop a thin layer of ice. James swerved at a particularly
tight turn, scaring him enough to slow to an unbearable pace. They arrived
at the hospital, already exhausted from the stress, and before James could
think to object, his wife was whisked away, and he was left alone in a big,
white, empty room.
The walls echoed his worried thoughts—is the birth going well? Is it a boy
or girl? Why can’t I be there for support? Eventually his mind grew numb to
the repetition of questions and he let the hum of the heater drown out his
thoughts.
James awoke, startled, after being nudged on the arm. He took in the neon
white lights, the anti-bacterial smell, and the tingling sensation in his
arm as it recovered from being leaned upon at an odd angle. Finally, after
a few seconds, he was able to recognize the doctor and remember where he was
and why. The memories from that morning came back to him in a flash—the first
snow, her cry, the trip, and being left alone.
“James? Can you come with me please?” the doctor asked, with a cautious smile.
The white of the hospital suddenly seemed overwhelming. That morning, the
snow coating everything in sight with a blanket of white seemed undeniably
breath taking-romantic and calming. But now the white of the tiles, walls
and ceilings seemed too much; overpowering. The fluorescent lights burned
into him, making him feel uncomfortable and exposed.
James broke down before he even entered his wife’s room, tears welling in
his eyes at the thoughts of all possible disasters. The pastel pink door of
his wife’s hospital room blurred into the surrounding wall. It took him three
tries before he finally managed to grasp the doorknob. The air was empty,
stripped clean by too many sanitizing chemicals. He staggered over to his
wife, grasping for her hand and waiting for an explanation. James noticed
there was no baby in the room. He was transported back to that morning, to
that snowflake. The flurry had been so beautiful—all those feathery crystals
cascading to the ground, each with its own beauty, its own imperfections.
He had known instinctually how mesmerizing the snowflake he caught would have
been—all of its exquisite contours and blemishes—but all he was left with
was a memory, the feeling of that small pool of slush pooling in the middle
of his palm. He couldn’t stop the feeling—the draining pulls in his chest
when he realized the loss of never seeing that mysterious splendor.
Selena Perkins just completed her junior year at Quince Orchard High School
in North Potomac.
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