New Life

"Do you even remember what it was like to be alive?" he spoke into the darkness. He knew she wasn't sleeping. They pretended now.

"Well...kind of." She rolled onto her back to stare at the same nothing he saw. "It was like warm, and stretchy."

"Stretchy?" He chuckled. She swatted at his chest.

"Yeah, I don't know how to describe it. But we were aging, we were going to grow old together..." she stopped before regret sounded. "There was past and there was future; the dreams and memories breathed to stretch the present. But now it's just..."

"Dead," he said.

"Dead," she whispered. "Why on earth would anyone leave a living, growing child on our front door? Us? Did they not notice the lifeless neighborhood, the limping houses as they walked up the broken sidewalk?"

"Well, we did have the only lights on that night, enjoying a nice glass of tasteless wine..."

"I could almost taste it!"

He smiled at her outstretched hands. Though they no longer held any warmth, at least they were still there for him to hold. He reached out and took her left in his right.

"So we must have looked like a loving couple. Anyone could mistake us as living if they saw us drinking wine in a lit dining room."

"Yes, an understandable mistake. But it so makes me wonder," she paused. "What sort of person even comes into this neighborhood, and with a child no less. I mean, I haven't seen more than a mangy cat chasing a skeletal mouse in...what year is it now?"

"2010, dear."

"My goodness. Have we really been dead 60 years already? Time flies when...you're not living in it anymore, doesn't it."

"It certainly does. And I don't know what would have inspired anyone to come this way for any reason. There must be some reason."

"I've been thinking about it every moment since she got here. It scares me to death...okay well, it terrifies me to think I'm responsible for the life of another person, so small, so unaware of this ghastly world! How can she be anything but ruined by everything around her?"

"I'm scared, too, dear. But how I almost feel my heart beat again when she smiles at us. Don't you just love that?"

"Oh, I do. I wouldn't trade her for anything. I'd die again for her...like you did for me. Do you think we rushed that decision? Do you think maybe I would have gotten better? Neither of us would have...well, we could have grown old and died together. Maybe...maybe we would be dying now, you and I, in our eighties. Think of that!"

"And now we're just starting the life we never had...There's really no use thinking about 'what ifs', Lucille. We decided and we're stuck with the consequence. I just couldn't have lost you. I would have died anyway, so instead we died together..."

"Sort of." She smiled. He knew she smiled because she always did when she said that. Just enough to where her lips etched a moon-shaped dimple into her cheek that caused a reflective sparkle in her eye. He lived for that smile. Or died for it. Yes, he died for that very smile.

"It's hard work pretending," she continued. "Like eating, breathing, sleeping. Gosh, sleeping is perhaps the most dreadful of all. I mean, not that I don't mind being here with you, but there are just so many other things we could be doing right now."

"But we can't wake her."

"Yes, I know. Not that reading, for example, is loud, you know."

"I know, but we'll get careless if we don't have some sort schedule and stick to it. Children need schedules. It's going to be a big change for us. Everything has changed and will just...keep changing. That's what life is, change."

"Except we're not changing anymore, Will. We don't 'stretch' anymore. Our hearts stopped and our blood stopped and we don't age. How long is she going to fall for that, do you think?"

"Oh...I didn't notice my parents getting older until I was out of the house, I think. Parents hold some sort of ageless charm while the kids grow up, too busy with their own growing to notice those already-grown, adult figures making any changes. I'd say we've got a good sixteen years before she suspects anything. If we stick to pretending." He poked her ribs.

"Ayy!" she squirmed and wrapped a fist around his culprit finger. "But what about warmth? We can't pretend to be warm, living creatures, just by thinking it."

He pulled her close to him, trying not to think of how desperately he wished he could feel that warmth again, reminding himself he was glad just to be with her.

"I've actually been thinking about that. What if we pumped something else warm through these veins of ours...? It couldn't kill us, and they aren't busy doing anything else."

"Are you crazy? What would you suggest, chocolate syrup, butter?"

"You would think of foods first, wouldn't you. My own Betty Crocker. Your cooking was always the very best. You would have your own Betty picture on a famous cook book if...yes, your cooking was the best."

"Aw, sweetie. Don't change the subject. Would that even be possible? Obviously our hearts wouldn't keep pumping whatever liquid we put in our veins. I can't believe I'm even talking about this."

"I was thinking either a gel or an oil. I'll look into it and let you know. For now we can just keep using handwarmers and keep the temperature up, take hot showers, etc. We'll learn how to take care of ourselves as she gets older. We just need to focus on her."

"I agree. I just always thought it was that 'mother's touch' that baby's needed most. And I'm worried that even if I hold her close, she won't be able to tell I love her because I have no heart."

"She will tell by the way she is held, by the way you talk to her, by how you tend to her needs. She doesn't know that she's hungry, but you do, so you feed her. She will trust and love you. Keep your arms and chest warm for now and I don't think she'll realize. This is all rather strange, isn't it?"

"Parenthood. We're parents. Finally, after..."

"After all these years," he spread a hand on her lower abdomen. When he had heard that his son hadn't made it and that she wasn't expected to make it either, he had done the same thing. He laid in their bed next to her, held his wife and spread his hand over her tired womb...He cleared his throat to scatter his thoughts.

"You are going to be an amazing mother," he said. "You can do all those things again, cooking and preparing lavish meals, sewing and mending clothes, living again, for the child."

"Living vicariously through a little girl? It sounds so creepy, really. But I guess one nice thing is I'll never get tired. At least not physically...can you imagine having to raise children as a mortal? I think it would kill me."

"Don't joke about it right now, Lil. It's kind of making me sad."

"Oh, sweetheart. I'm sorry. I should actually work on that starting now, you know, to get in the habit of thinking like I'm alive."

"That's a good idea. But, not too much. Because you won't bleed anymore if the knife slips and nicks your finger. You'll have to be careful to remember who you are."

"Yes, I will. But I will also do my best to pretend that I am as capable a mother as any living woman."

"And you will do beautifully, I'm sure of it. The world is scary, but there is so much love, too. Think of all the marvelous things this one child could do to change the world? She has changed our world so much already."

"We'll have to move, won't we?"

"She'll need to have friends, we'll have to make friends."

Silence met his ears. He turned his head toward her. Out of habit impossible to kill he saw her chest rise and fall with a characteristic sigh.

"You will do beautifully."

"We will," she said, squeezing his hand. "Thank you for sticking with me."

"Till dusk and till dawn."

A baby's cry echoed down the hall. Lucille leapt out of bed faster than a grasshopper from underfoot.

"I'll go!" And she was wrapped in wails down the hallway.

William crossed his arms behind his head. A father. At last.