The stereo illuminates the dark – the only exposure of light as we drive through the streets at one in the morning. I keep a lookout for the perfect house as I stare out the window next to me. The neighbourhood seems mostly to be asleep as only a few houses still have lights on inside. We ignore those families and continue driving.
I hold the baby close to my chest and rock him back and forth to keep him asleep for as long as possible. Thoughts of storking this baby begin to cloud my mind. This must’ve been what it felt like when my mother left me on someone else’s doorstep, I think to myself. I try imagining her face and what her situation would’ve been like.
Does she know how much I want to see her? Does she know what she did to me? Does she know where I am? Does she remember me? I begin to tear up as I stare at the baby. What if you miss me? Will you have the same desire to see me one day? Maybe you’re different.
I look up and pause for a moment. ‘What if we’re making a mistake?’
‘What?’
‘What if we’re making a mistake,’ I repeat. ‘Maybe … maybe this one’s different.’
‘What do you mean by “different”?’ He turns to me for a moment before looking back to the road.
‘I mean, maybe he would come looking for me. He might miss me and, and ... but what if he hates me?’ Realising, as I said it, that he could. ‘He might think that we storked him because we don’t love him. Which isn’t true ... right?’
‘Of course not,’ Harry says. ‘We had a reason for wanting a child in the first place. We just …’ he hesitates for a moment, ‘we can’t afford to keep one.’
‘Well if you hadn’t—’
‘I know!’ he interrupts. ‘I know.’
We sit in silence for a while longer before a decent-looking house catches my eye.
‘There,’ I say.
We pull over and look around to make sure nobody is watching. The house is small, but in the bright light that shone from the moon, I can tell that the family is rich from the structure of the building. Inside, the house is dark, and I assume that they are all asleep.
‘Ready?’ Harry asks.
I nod and open the car door. Taking a step outside, I never lose sight of the house. I take a deep breath as my heart continues to pound so loud I’m surprised Harry can’t hear it. The air is so cold that I physically see a cloud of steam with every breath I exhale.
‘I can’t,’ I say.
‘We have to, Taylor.’
‘I know but …’ I pause for a moment. ‘Can you come with me?’ I ask shyly.
Harry stares at me for a while with an exhausted look on his face, but the sadness and desperation in my eyes catches him, and he unlocks the door. ‘Fine,’ he sighs.
I give him a small smile as he walks up to me and gives me a hug, with the baby in between us.
‘It’s okay,’ he whispers.
He rests his chin on top of my head and wraps his arms around me hard, but not hard enough to interrupt the baby’s personal space. I sniff through the tears that begin to stream down my face but carefully embrace this moment – the last time we will all be together as a family.
After a moment of silence, we face the building we’re about to leave the baby outside and slowly walk up the stairs. Oddly, no sensor light turns on as we reach the porch.
I stare down at the baby and make eye contact.
‘You have such pretty eyes,’ I whisper, and I try my best to give him a warm smile.
The baby manages to smile back, which makes me miserably happy.
‘Look,’ I say to Harry.
Harry glances at the baby over my shoulder. I turn around to see him smirking at him.
‘He’s cute, huh?’ he says.
I wrap the blanket tighter around the baby and slowly set the baby down onto the doorstep.
‘Yeah,’ I say, more like a whisper.
I stand up as we both take a moment to realise what we’re doing.
‘I love you so much,’ I say to the baby. I lean down and hold his tiny hand, which he wraps around my index finger, as I place a motherly kiss on his forehead. Harry bends over to place a small piece of paper on his chest.
‘What’s that?’ I ask.
There is writing on the paper that reads, ‘Connor’.
‘A name,’ he says.
‘They might choose their own name.’
‘Might,’ he repeats.
Before Harry is able to reach for the doorbell, Connor begins to cry.
‘Shh!’ I say while Connor still holds onto my finger.
‘Taylor, we gotta go,’ Harry says.
I hesitate, but then one of the upstairs lights turns on.
‘Taylor, let’s go!’ He grabs my hand.
I never take my eyes off Connor. Slowly, my finger slips out of the small child’s hand. With every step I take, I’m moving in the complete opposite direction of where I want to go.
I sob nearly as much as the baby. His cries fade more and more until we reach the car.
Just as we open the doors, the voice of a man shouts at us to come back. This time, the porch light is on. As much as I would love to go back, we can’t.
Harry turns the key to start the car, and we begin to drive away. I look behind me as the baby continues crying. Hoping, wishing we would come back.
But we never did.