A Surprising Nursery...
/A Surprising Nursery Reveal
Rays spread as a brisk
breeze separated the blinds
like fingers wiggling
into a pair of dark, thin gloves.
Lorena had goodbye on her lips.
She didn’t have to say it.
Her sharp glance told me
all that I’d wanted to know
about sadness.
I didn’t know it then,
but depression leaks
into all things in your
head. I didn’t know it then,
but I know it now.
I reached and moved
my hand over to her
side of the bed.
The smooth, bitter touch
scared me more than anything
at a haunted house.
I threw the covers off my body
and twisted to see her gone
with emotions.
Emotions that I didn’t know
how to decipher.
I pushed my feet into
a pair of brown slippers
and moved across the cream carpet.
Michelle Branch played on the stereo
and Snickers’ coffee filled the kitchen
and living room.
Flames swayed over oak logs in the fireplace.
“Lorena?” I said. I grabbed my hoodie from the couch and threw it over my shoulders. “Babe?”
I looked at the maroon walls with framed pictures of family and friends.
Lorena had the pictures in black and white.
She’d tell me that something was right, or it was wrong.
I told her that gray existed for a reason.
I moved across the cherry maple floor.
Lorena left the front door open.
I slipped through the white screen door.
A rocking chair creaked on the mahogany deck.
“You okay, honey?”
“I don’t know.” Lorena continued to rock. “Am I?” She looked at me and returned her eyes to the river rippling below with evergreen trees stacked throughout the remote maple cabin.
“I know you’re depressed—”
“Wait, what?” Lorena said, crinkling her narrow eyes into crinkled slits.
“You’re withdrawn.” I raked my fingers through my thick, dark hair. “You haven’t been yourself in—”
“—in what?”
“In about two months.”
“The truth is, I couldn’t be happier.” Lorena moved her fingers across her damp eyes.
I lifted and lowered my hands. “Would you tell me what’s going on?” I said, more desperate than I’d wanted to.
“Okay.” Lorena motioned. “I’ve been moody.”
“That’s for sure,” I said under my breath.
“I heard that!” Lorena sipped her coffee and stood up. “I’m mad because you don’t even see what’s going on.” She hugged herself.
I searched the past few days for context clues, but when I found nothing, my eyes went cold.
I took a shot in the dark. “Your pregnant?”
Lorena’s menacing gaze eased into a soft glance.
“Did you look upstairs?” I said.
“For what?”
“Upstairs,” I said, “go.”
Lorena grabbed her coffee mug,
and we moved inside, locking the door.
She set the mug on the glass coffee table.
She held the rail as we scaled the stairs.
“Come on.” I motioned.
“Why are we looking in an empty room.”
“Close your eyes,” I said.
“You can’t be serious.”
“Close them.”
Lorena rolled her eyes and closed them.
I opened the door and guided her by the hand.
“Open them.”
“What…” Lorena’s eyes widened, and she put her hand over her heart. “God.”
“Do you like it?”
“You made a nursery,” Lorena said before she could pick out the specifics. “You painted the walls blue with cartoon pictures. There’s a dark crib, a changing table, a cherry maple rocking chair, and TV, and diapers,” Lorena said. She looked at me. “How’d you know?”
“Because I know you,” I said.
Lorena threw her arms around me. “I’m sorry I doubted you.” She rested her head on my chest.
I moved her long, red bangs behind her ear. “You left clues,” I said.
She giggled. “I did.”
“Songs about pregnancy and mothers expecting magazines on the kitchen table, so I wouldn’t miss them. I’m here for you.”
“I trust you,” she said. “Thank God for you.”
“And I thank him for you.”
By Andy Cooper
From: United States
Twitter: AC0040