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Antigonish Review
# 140
The
lights went out and the image on the TV shrank to a dot. Sam swore. He
watched the dot disappear then twisted around and peered through the blinds.
Across the street the houses were dark. He touched his nose to the glass.
His breath fogged the window. "Power's out," he said.
At the other end of the sofa, Liz stretched and yawned. She sat up, pressed her hands against her face. "I'd better go feed Ashley," she said. She yawned again, shook her head. "Look at this. Look. I'm going to start leaking."
Sam didn't look though. The TV had his attention again. It gave off an eerie, grey glow as though it had found a couple of volts in some forgotten part of the grid. "I was right in the middle of this weird travel show," he said. They were watching MuchMusic when Liz fell asleep. Afterwards Sam had flipped through channels, but the remote was acting up and left him stranded on PBS. "It was about this town in Italy where people throw oranges at each other. It was kind of funny." Sam waited for Liz to respond, but she didn't. She stood, stretched again."Way back when, the peasants rebelled against this king who used to spend the night with all the new brides. When you're king everyone does what you say, so after every wedding brides used to hop up to the castle for the night. Until this one girl refused. It set off a big rebellion. The peasants and whatnot didn't have any weapons so they threw rocks."
"Is that it? Is that the story?"
"Well the whole time they were showing this, I kept thinking that if we'd lived back then you wouldn't be so upset about not being married."
"I have to feed Ashley."
"Oh, come on, babe. I'm joking. Relax a second."
Liz stubbed her toe on the way to the bedroom. She didn't say anything, just held her foot a moment. Sam shifted around, peered out again. Complete darkness.
When Liz called for a flashlight, Sam felt his way down the hall and into the kitchen. He switched on the gas stove, used its dull light to go through the drawers.
***
Liz was leaning over the crib. Sam moved close. He aimed the beam at the wall so it spilt a faint light across Ashley. She was on her back, blankets tangled at her feet. Her face looked relaxed and she breathed so slowly it was hard to be sure she was breathing at all. Liz leaned in, brushed Ashley's cheek with the back of her hand. "We still haven't gotten her tetanus shot. Doctor Haas's secretary called work just to say that."
Sam nodded. He thought she'd gotten tetanus, but he might have been confusing it with rubella or one of the others, so he didn't say anything. He didn't want it to sound like he wasn't paying attention to his daughter's health.
"Can you imagine if she got tetanus this week, got it before we went for the shot? I mean, I don't know what the chances are. Not very high, right? It makes you think though."
"Lots of people don't get any of those shots. Plus you only get tetanus from rusty metal."
"Oh."
Sam raised the flashlight, shone it in Liz's face. She turned away. "Now tell me," he said.
"Tell you what?"
Sam didn't know what to say. He'd just been messing around. In the silence that followed, he considered suggesting they drink some beers or get out the water pipe, but he doubted Liz would go for it. Plus he was getting tired. Bed would be all right. He had to be at work at eight.
"You think I'd make a good king?"
"A king?" Liz turned to him. Moonlight touched his face. He licked his lips. A king?" she said.
"You'd be the queen which is almost as good. Everyone but me would have to do what you say."
Liz ran a hand along the smooth wood of the crib until she touched the mobile. The contact made it quiver, and the farm animals above Ashley began to turn. "On the way home yesterday we were at this one stop a long time, and for some reason my mind pictured a baby sitting in the shelter and it just occurred to me, what if someone had left her baby there? You think that could happen? Not to Ashley but, I don't know, someone gets on the bus without her baby, forgets it the way you forget groceries?"
"Someone would notice. Everyone looks out for babies."
"What if she was the only one at the stop?"
"You don't just forget your baby. That's what all the hormones are for. To develop attachments. It would be like forgetting your right arm."
Sam aimed the light at Liz. She turned and reached into the crib, carried Ashley to the bed.
Ashley fed well for a minute then slowed and pulled away. Liz brushed Ashley's lips with a finger, blew on her face. She suckled again, but only briefly. "She's self-weaning. That's what she's doing. I read about self-weaning. She gets too much bottle." She tried once more but Ashley wouldn't even open her mouth. Liz set her on the mattress, rested a hand on her forehead.
"It's good that she's sleeping. She needs to sleep. We should do something. We should have some fun."
"Fun like maybe watching my boobs split open." Liz pulled down her shirt. "Jesus, this one's like a rock. All she did was get my milk started."
Sam shifted closer. "Come here. Come here and let me see."
"Sam," she said. "Sam, don't."
"What?"
"Could you keep your hands to yourself a minute? I'm not in the mood."
"I was only touching. I wasn't asking for anything."
"They're just tender. They hurt." Liz pushed the extra pillow onto the floor, slid down on the bed. "Can you at least go get the book? Can you at least see what I'm supposed to do."
"Supposed to do?"
"About engorgement. Read about what to do so they don't burst."
Sam took the flashlight into the livingroom, flipped through the baby book. It said to use cabbage leaves. It suggested cold packs, hot packs, pumping or hand expressing. He shone the light towards the bedroom. "We have any cabbage leaves?" Liz didn't answer. He read two paragraphs to her then checked his watch. Almost ten. The grocers on Mason might still be open. He brought the book in, opened it to the page with diagrams about hand expressing. He said he'd be back in a jiffy.
***
The store was getting ready to close. A man in a white apron pushed a produce stand up a ramp and inside. Sam followed and lifted a cabbage from the top shelf. Only one register was open, and the line was long. He passed the cabbage from hand to hand and watched the girls in front of him. They were about Sam's age, maybe a little younger. Probably students, although they didn't dress like students. They looked ready for a night out. They wore little dresses, black and clingy, not much to be wearing on a night like this. They looked good though. Sam leaned forward a bit. He tried to be discreet. One glanced back as she stepped towards the cash and Sam returned his eyes to the cabbage. It was a veiny, wrinkled old thing. There weren't many vegetables uglier than a cabbage. When Sam looked up again, the girl had both hands held out for change. Her bracelets tinkled.
Sam was halfway up Davenport when he heard the car honking. He turned. Someone was leaning out the passenger window. "Sammy. Sammy boy." It was Jeff Sorenson. Sam waved. The car rolled past. "Show us your snake, Sammy." Near the end of the block, the car slowed, stopped. Sam ran for two or three steps then the car lurched on, turned the corner, disappeared. It was Ollie's car, mufflerless with a broken tail light from when he'd backed into a Brinks truck.
They passed again when Sam was on the next block. Jeff was still leaning out the window. "Sammy Jenkins blows dead dogs." The car squealed as it took the corner. Sam paused at the curbside. He tried to think of something to shout. He tossed the cabbage from hand to hand. No cars came. He turned up Hastings, looked back a couple of times to see if Ollie and Jeff were approaching.
The apartment was lit, but Sam could make out no movement through the curtains. He climbed the stairs, searched for his keys. Eventually he raised a hand, but instead of knocking, he just lay it softly on the door, rested it there, ran his knuckles and then his fingertips down the smooth paint. Beyond it would be warm. His daughter was asleep and Liz would be waiting. He leaned close, touched his forehead to the wood. "Liz," he said. "Liz are you there?" He tapped lightly, fingers playing against the panel. His breath curled off the door and brushed his face. "Are you there?" Sam was only whispering, but he thought somehow she would know. If she was truly waiting for him, she'd hear.
Sam raised his voice a little. "Liz?" And then he heard her, moving towards him.
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