Dancing Naked

by Shelley Hrdlitschka

  “Sorry, bud, I didn’t bring any food today.”

  They stared at each other until Kia spotted Sadie walking back through the park. She did appear to be carrying a baby. It was wrapped in a blanket and Sadie was staring down at it, smiling. Had she really left a baby in her car?

  “Congratulations, Kia,” Sadie said, standing in front of her, still cradling the baby. “I’d like you to meet your little bundle of joy.” There was a playful look in her eyes as she held it out to Kia.

  Kia took the bundle and looked at it. “What is this?” She pulled the blanket away and found she was holding a bag of dog food. The goose craned its long neck forward to take a closer look.

  “This is your newborn baby, Kia. It’s a big one at ten pounds.”

  “This is stupid.” Kia shoved the blanket and dog food at Sadie. The goose took a fluttering step back.

  Sadie carefully rewrapped the bag in the blanket. “I know it seems stupid, Kia, but humor me. There’s no real way of understanding the responsibilities of being a parent unless you’ve actually been one. All I want you to do is try it for one week. That’s nothing, considering a real child will be with you for about twenty years.”

  Kia sighed. “What do I have to do?”

  Sadie began to rock the bag of dog food. “She’s crying, Kia.”

  Kia rolled her eyes.

  Sadie heaved the package up to her shoulder and began to pat it. “Maybe she’s hungry. Or she could have a wet diaper.”

  “Are you serious?”

  “I am. I want you to choose a name for her. You need to borrow some baby clothes and also get a couple of baby bottles, soothers and some toys. You’ll also need to buy enough disposable diapers to last you through the week. That will be about fifty-six.”

  “Fifty-six diapers?”

  “Oh, yeah. You can expect to change a newborn baby at least eight times a day. And you’ll need to feed it about every three hours. Each time will take about twenty minutes. So every three hours you’ll need to stop whatever you’re doing and feed your baby, even at night. So set your alarm to wake yourself up.”

  Kia shook her head. “Never mind. I get your point; babies are time-consuming. You can keep your dumb dog food. Or feed it to that goose.”

  “Babies are more than that, Kia,” Sadie said, glancing briefly at the huge bird. “And it’s one thing to know they’re a big responsibility, it’s another thing to actually be responsible.” Sadie leaned over and gently passed the blanket-wrapped bag of dog food back to Kia. Kia took it, but she held it away from her body. “It’s still crying, Kia. Try walking it.”

  Kia rolled her eyes again but stood up and rocked from side to side. She was aware of the goose watching her. She felt incredibly stupid.

  “Your baby must always be left with a responsible adult, Kia. You can’t ever leave it alone. If you go out, you must find a babysitter for it.”

  Kia nodded, resigned.

  “And your baby will cry a few times every hour for no apparent reason, like right now. You must hold it and rock it.”

  Kia began to rock a little harder, glad, at least, that this baby’s nose didn’t run.

  “Play with your baby, Kia. Talk to it and carry it with you most of the time.”

  Kia nodded.

  “I’ll give you a ride home,” Sadie said. “And don’t worry. I brought a car seat for the baby. I’ll lend it to you for the week.”

  Kia sat back down on the bench and wrapped the blanket firmly around the dog food. She didn’t want anyone to get a glimpse of what she was really carrying.

  “Sorry, goose,” she said to the curious bird as she got up and began to follow Sadie back to the car. “I tried. I really did.”

  “Kia!” Angie called up the stairs.

  “Yeah?” She turned the TV down.

  “Someone here to see you.”

  “Okay,” she sighed. “I’ll be right there.”

  Kia threw back the blanket, slowly pulled herself off the couch and trudged down the stairs.

  “Hi, Kia,” Justin said from the doorway. “How are ya?”

  “Hi, Justin.” Kia’s voice was expressionless.

  “I told you I was going to come over and break your door down.”

  “You did?”

  “Yeah. In my e-mail. Remember?”

  “Oh,” she said. “I haven’t been checking my mail.”

  “Well, that makes me feel better,” he said. “At least now I know it’s not me that’s the problem.”

  No, thought Kia. It’s not you. It’s everyone.

  “And I guess I won’t have to break your door down.”

  “I guess not.”

  “Can I come in?” he asked.

  She shook her head. “I’m not allowed to have guys in the house when my parents aren’t home.”

  Justin stepped in anyway. “I’m not just any guy. I’m your Youth Group leader. And besides,” he said, glancing down at Kia’s stomach and smiling, “I’ll bet your parents have quit worrying about that.”

  “Shut up, Justin,” she said. “And why are you here, anyway?”

  “I’m here to help you find your lost sense of humor,” he said, serious now. “And to see how you’re doing.” He looked her over. “The Peanut has grown since that last time I saw you two.”

  “I think we can quit calling her Peanut,” Kia said, looking down. “She’s outgrown that nickname, don’t you think? And yeah, I’m more cow-like than ever.”

  “Cow-like? That’s how you see yourself?”

  “Yeah. Duh.”

  “C’mon, Kia. That’s almost sacrilegious.” He shook his head. “The creation of a baby from a mass of cells to a fully developed child in just nine months is so totally awesome. It really makes you stop and wonder about the mystery of our existence...”

  “Yeah, sure, easy for you to say,” she interrupted. “You’re a guy. You don’t have to gain twenty-five pounds in nine months.” She turned and started up the stairs. “You might as well come in. You’re here anyway.”

  Kia picked up the TV remote from the coffee table and hit the power switch to turn it off.

  “Anything good on?” Justin asked.

  “No,” she answered, but realized, with shock, that she couldn’t even remember what she’d been watching. She’d been living in such a fog. She plunked herself down on the couch and picked up the dressed bag of dog food. Angie and her mom had found old baby clothes stored in boxes in the crawl space, and Angie had carefully dressed it in a soft green blanket sleeper with a hood. She’d even drawn a sleepy face on the bag.

  Justin perched himself on the hearth across the coffee table from her. He stretched his long legs out in front of him. “What have you got there?”

  “A surrogate baby.”

  “Really. May I hold it?”

  “Gladly.” Kia tossed the bag to him. “Cute, isn’t she?”

  “Very.” Justin held the bag up to his shoulder and patted it, just as Sadie had. “Who gave it to you?”

  “Sadie. This is her way of showing me what it’s like to be a mother.”

  “Does she cry much?”

  “She did the first day. But I straightened her out.”

  Justin looked skeptical. “How did you do that?”

  “I locked her in a closet.”

  “Is that what Sadie had in mind?” He held her gaze.

  “No.” Kia tossed him an empty baby bottle. “Sadie thought I should feed it every three hours, change its diaper eight times a day and hire a babysitter for it when I’m in school.”

  “That’s what you’d have to do if it was a real baby.” Justin ignored the bottle, but he continued to hold the bag.

  “But I’d love a real baby! I’d want to do all those things! This is just a stupid game. I quit after one day.”

  “Did you learn anything?”

  “I learned that Sadie’s as stupid as everyone else.” Kia took a cookie out of a bag that was sitting on the couch beside her. She tossed the bag back
onto the table. “Help yourself,” she said.

  “No thanks.” Justin carefully laid the surrogate baby on the floor at his feet. “How are you feeling?”

  “Fat, like I said, and I’m not even halfway there yet.”

  “How many weeks along are you now?”

  “Eighteen.” She frowned and pushed gently on one side of her swollen stomach. “And what is this? An interrogation?”

  “When’s your next doctor’s appointment?”

  “This week.” She frowned again and changed her position.

  “Have you gone through the adoption binder again?” he asked softly.

  She nodded. “I’ve glanced at it.”

  “Any good candidates?”

  She shrugged

  He spoke even more quietly. “Are you really thinking of keeping your baby, Kia?”

  “No. Yes. I don’t know.” She crossed her arms. “I’m trying to think of a way to keep her and prove that everyone is wrong. That I can do it.”

  Justin nodded.

  “But I guess I know deep down,” she said, “that I can’t do it alone.”

  They sat quietly for a minute.

  “Okay,” Kia said. “I’ll show you the perfect couple.” She got up and pulled the binder off a shelf. Justin moved over to sit on the couch beside her. She flipped through the pages until she came to the one she was looking for. “Here they are.” She handed the book to him.

  He read the profile, nodded and handed it back. “What is it about them that you like?”

  “I think it’s what I read between the lines. They say ‘listening is the most important part of parenting.’ That says a lot about them, don’t you think?”

  Justin nodded.

  “And they say it’s important for kids to learn to think for themselves, not to just parrot what everyone else thinks.” Kia glanced at Justin. “Cool, huh?”

  “Cool.” He smiled.

  “They don’t smoke. They’re environmentalists. They say they’ll support their child in whatever life path he or she chooses. They sound almost too good to be true.” She stared at the picture of them and then added, almost sarcastically, “The perfect parents.”

  “You make it sound like that’s a crime.”

  “Only because they are and I’m not.”

  “You’re gonna be a great parent someday, Kia.”

  She ignored him. “And there’s one other thing I like about them.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Look at their picture again.”

  “They almost look like your parents.”

  “Yeah. Except in reverse. He’s Oriental and she’s white. My baby would blend in perfectly.”

  “That’s true. So?”

  “So what?” Kia rubbed her stomach, frowning again.

  “Shall we call Sadie? Get her to set up a meeting?”

  “What’s the rush?”

  “C’mon, Kia,” Justin said quietly. “You said yourself this couple looks almost too good to be true. It’s time to meet them.”

  “All right. I’ll phone her. Later. Something’s happening in here.” She rubbed her stomach again.

  “Are you okay?”

  “Yeah, it doesn’t hurt. But, it feels weird.”

  “Maybe we should call your doctor.”

  “No, it’s not that bad, it’s just ...”

  “What?” Justin sounded alarmed.

  Kia sat up straight. Her eyes lit up when she turned to him. “It’s moving! I’ve been wondering what that weird feeling was!”

  “Cool.” Justin leaned forward. “Do you think I can feel it too?”

  “I don’t know. It’s just a fluttering sensation, really. Here. Give me your hand.” She placed his hand on one side of her stomach and pressed on it with both her own. They sat still for a moment. “There! Did you feel that?”

  “I felt a kind of gurgle. That was the baby?”

  “Yeah. I think so.”

  “Wow.”

  Kia kept Justin’s warm hand pressed against her side long after the fluttering had stopped. Their breathing seemed to be in perfect unison; she could feel his warm breath on her cheek. He didn’t seem in any hurry to pull his hand away. Finally, though, she sat back. “I guess she’s gone to sleep.”

  Justin stood up and moved back to the hearth. “You gonna be okay?” he asked.

  “Yeah.”

  “You’ll check your e-mail?”

  She smiled. “Maybe.”

  “And you’ll come back to Youth Group?”

  “Are you bringing popcorn next time?”

  “Popcorn and, as a special treat, pickles.”

  “Then I’ll come.”

  “Good. And you’ll phone Sadie?”

  “Yeah. Just to get you off my back.”

  Justin picked up the bag of dog food and handed it to Kia. “Take care of her, Ki. It breaks my heart to think she’s being neglected.”

  “The week’s almost up. I’m going to feed her to the neighbor’s dog.”

  Justin feigned horror. “Oh, Kia. No!”

  “Yes.”

  “Then she’s coming with me.” Justin snatched the bag back and wrapped it more securely in the blanket as he went down the stairs.

  “I don’t think Sadie will approve of me giving her away,” Kia laughed, but then realized what she’d said. “Actually,” she added, serious now, “I guess that’s the whole point. Take her.”

  “Better to give her to me than to put her in a closet.”

  “You’re right.” She rubbed the side of her stomach. “There she goes again.” She glanced at Justin’s bundle. “You can have that baby. I’ve got my own.”

  week 19/40

  ~ taste buds have formed inside the mouth and on the tongue

  ~ loud noises on the outside may startle the baby

  ~ weighs about one pound

  April 4

  Dear Peanut (I have to think of another name for you),

  Feeling you move is too amazing! I can’t believe I have a little person inside of me who I’ve never met. It almost seems like you’re an alien! But keep moving, it’s so awesome.

  I wish I could read Justin’s mind. He seems as fascinated by all this as I am. Is it me that turns him off? My age? Or is it just because I’m in the Youth Group? What did he mean when he said that there is something I don’t understand?

  Kia pushed Grace’s wheelchair into a sunny corner of the room and then brought her a cup of tea.

  “So Kia,” Grace said, after taking a sip, “I didn’t expect to see you again until your next piano performance on Wednesday.”

  “I just felt like a visit,” Kia said. “A week is too long. Besides, you’re my favorite friend right now.”

  “I’m happy to see you too, Kia,” Grace said, but she looked puzzled. They sat quietly while Grace struggled to get her teacup to her mouth. She took another sip and then continued. “So why don’t you get right to the point and tell me what’s wrong?”

  Kia feigned surprise. “What makes you think something’s wrong?”

  “Just that intuition thing again, I guess.” Grace shrugged.

  Kia stared out at the turbulent river. The leaves were beginning to reappear on the trees and they cast interesting shadows on the wide expanse of lawn. “So haven’t you noticed anything different about me, Grace?” she asked finally, turning to look directly at the old woman.

  Grace’s teacup clattered as she dropped it back on the saucer. She sat back in her wheelchair. “Yes Kia, I can see you’re pregnant. I’m old, but I’m not blind.”

  “Then why haven’t you said anything?”

  “I knew you would talk about it when you were ready.”

  “I wanted to talk about it ... but it’s a hard thing to ... to bring up.” Kia glanced around the room. “What does everyone else think about it?” she asked quietly. “Are they all shocked? Disgusted?”

  “I don’t know if anyone else has even noticed,” Grace answered. “They don’t spend as much time w
ith you as I do.” She leaned forward, frowning. “And don’t tell me the reaction of these old people is your biggest problem right now!”

  Kia heard the teasing in Grace’s voice. “No, not the biggest, but one of them.”

  “Then rest assured, Kia,” Grace said, placing her hand on Kia’s arm, “the people here have been around way too long to be shocked by something like this. So, why don’t you tell me what else is bothering you?”

  Kia looked at Grace, and then back out the window. “Have you got all day? There’s so much, I don’t even know where to start.”

  “I’ve got nothing but time, Kia, you know that. Start at the beginning. Is the father that young man you were telling me about awhile back? The one who ...?”

  “Yep. He’s the one.” Kia told Grace about the near-abortion and how angry Derek was with her for not going through with it.

  “Okay, now I know about Derek,” Grace said when Kia was finished. “What else is going on?”

  Kia picked up her teacup and studied the bottom of it. “I don’t even know where to start,” she said. “There’s my friends, if you can still call them that ...”

  “What’s happening with your friends?”

  “Nothing! That’s the problem. They don’t call me. We used to chat on the computer all the time...”

  “Chat on the computer?”

  “Yeah.” Kia tried to think of a way to explain it. “It’s like sending notes to each other, but over the computer. I send a note to Shawna and it shows up on her computer screen. She sends one back. Kind of like talking on the phone, but you can send notes to a bunch of people at the same time.”

  “Interesting. You’ll have to show me how to do that.”

  Kia nodded absently. “I will. But right now they’re not sending me anything, except Shawna, and even she seems ... distant.”

  “Why do you think that is?”

  “I don’t know. I guess it’s because I’m not doing the same things as them anymore. I’m not playing baseball. or going to parties or shopping or any of that stuff.”

  “You’re busy growing a baby.”

  “Yeah. And they’re not into that.”

  Grace nodded.