The heat hung over Wednesday like the open mouth of a furnace. The wind picked up dust and stung our eyes until they were red and teary. I looked over at Maureen. She sat with her hands folded in her lap--one fist coiled around pink flower embroidered baby booties. She was quiet and stared out the passenger window keeping her eyes away from the sun`s rays glowering off the hood of the convertible. From the back of the car, the cradle knocked gently against her seat as I drove down St. John`s Boulevard away from the hospital. From the rear view mirror, the hospital shrank until it resembled a tombstone, and disappeared altogether.
I put on a jazz station, the one that was most commercial free. I didn't want anything to remind us, especially Maureen. The soft thump of trumpets kept time to my heart. My mouth opened for a moment, but nothing came out. Then there was Stevie Wonder singing, "Isn`t she lovely, isn`t she beautiful" as a giggling baby splashed in the water in the song`s background. I reached over and hit the off button on the radio. Maureen looked at me.
"Don`t patronize me." She turned the radio on and resumed staring out the window. Thankfully, the announcer cut in with a commercial after a few seconds.
I breathed as quietly as I could. "It was not my idea" I thought to myself. I always get the blame when Maureen`s ideas go bad. When she wanted to sell our old house during an economic downturn, and we lost money; when she took in an arthritic elderly woman to coax into making quilts, and the woman became bedridden; and now the baby.
I drove in a daze, in silence, suppressing sighs. I didn`t see the truck until it was almost too late. A long truck with green and white port o potties bouncing in a trailer backed rapidly towards our car. I slammed on the brakes and everything lurched forward. Maureen and I bowed towards the wind shield. The cradle in the back seat rose as if the wind had lifted it. It struck Maureen in the back of the head. She grabbed her hair and screamed. In one motion, she grabbed the cradle and unsnapped her seat belt. She marched flat footed towards the port of potties, and with all the strength she could muster in her thin arm, Maureen hurled the cradle into the back of the truck. It wedged between the port o potties. The truck driver eased forward unaware of anything and drove away. Maureen stared after the truck. Her body heaved and jerked.
I got out of the car and walked towards her with my arms opened.
"It`s not ok. I will never be ok" Maureen screamed.
Cars around us honked like geese as I led Maureen back to our blue, blue car.
