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Alice's baby was as all babies were, beautiful, innocent, and undeniably perfect in almost every way. Alice's mother was the one to mention this, as the two stared out to the squirming piles of infants, kept safe from viral corruption by reinforced glass and separation
"The only perfect thing in the world is a baby," her mother said, choked up. Alice, who was not choked up, and said nothing. Only stared at the bundles of babies in blue and pink, trussed up like cellophane candy free for the taking.
Now, Alice was bathing the infant in her cell of a kitchen, in the sink. She had been doing so for a long time and the water was cooling. The baby noticed. Alice didn't.
Alice was 19 years old and full of the magnificence that is wasted intelligence and beauty. She had had a ring on her finger since 18. This ring now gleamed in the poor light of the kitchen, sitting on the counter to protect it from the suds. Her husband, Daniel, was not home. He was working.
Alice hated Daniel.
Daniel did not beat her. He never cheated on her, and did not take drugs or drink, and she hated him. She had hated him since he seized her hand and pressed the damnable ring on her finger, while her mother and father bawled before congregation.
She suspected Daniel knew this. It explained why he did so many unforgiveable things.
Alice had been attending college for only a few months before meeting Daniel. He was 22, graduated, and slightly appealing. Little could be said about their courtship, except that in a small amount of time he was admitting to being madly in love with her, and felt urgency to marry as soon as possible before something horrible happened to stop them.
She had been less jaded then, and was being pressed on all sides by friends, relatives, and Daniel. There was little chance for her to decline, and, dizzily, she had become wife without her realizing. She had woken up in front of an alter, blinking drunkenly and paralyzed, aware of only the hate she felt for the man in front of her.
The baby gurgled, not in the least understandable. Alice laid her out on the waiting towel, and the baby kicked its precious little feet and sweet little toes. Alice stared, unaware of how such a being could have come from her. The idea seemed absolutely ludicrous. The baby cooed. Alice backed away, terrified part of herself would fly out to infect the baby, corrupt such perfection. She couldn't even remember its name. Daniel had named her.
Overwhelming guilt flooded over, and it was unbearable to feel in the cramped kitchen, with it's flickering light and faded cabinets. She shouldn't have allowed this to happen. But even now, Alice could not think of a way she could have prevented the baby.
For Daniel, as Alice saw, was crafty and paranoid, aware of her growing hate and did anything to keep her from leaving. Soon after they were married he convinced her to leave college and withdraw her funds. She wouldn't have had a choice, in the long run. Daniel had long been poor, and now they were both horribly poor, pressed into a stifling apartment in a colorless town. Away from college, she was isolated properly with drop-out stamped painfully obvious in her brain.
So, Daniel worked and told her to stay home, and she did. Jobs were scarce here, and unavailable to drop-outs, as he told her. There was nowhere for her to turn, as she realized to late the cage being built about her. He knew it. There was gloating in his eyes when he left her in the morning, and victory in his face upon coming home and finding her still present. Everytime she laid eyes on him it made her sick, filled with so much hate she feared it would kill her before she could kill him.
She never killed him.
The pregnancy had just been another link in the chain. He had insisted on a baby, and she had reduced herself to begging. They barely had enough money for themselves. They were too young. They didn't know enough.
But Alice didn't have the money or the means to possess birth control, and Daniel refused condoms. And along with the duty that came to her as wife, it became clear it was no longer her choice.
How odd, such a defeating moment came from pissing on a stick. She had wondered back then, if it was normal for mothers to feel such desperation. To not feel the warmth of a developing child, to only feel ill, the swelling, the sickening, sweaty intimacy of a baby. Daniel made it a habit to press his hand to her stomach during the months, a smile on his face and smugness in his eyes. Alice could only watch, silent and hateful, the message passing clearly from him. Got you now
Sickness moved to panic, panic to desperation that could not be quelled. There was no one to confide in. They had moved far from family and friends, and she couldn't afford for the phone bill to be raised. On one of those shaky days, alone and frightened and pregnant, the power was cut off. She was left to focus on the wasting gleam of her eyes, the spoiling food in the refridgerator while the sickness spread. This drove her to the edge, to the frantic decision of ending the pregnancy, in secret, away from Daniel. The need was so consuming in her times left alone, she considered herself doomed if she couldn't succeed.
They had only one bank account, and only Daniel could open it. He had not given her the information for his own reasons. So she began the long process of hording, to earn enough for an abortion before it was too late. Alice took in laundry, babysat children of the complex, but their families weren't much better off then herself.
Then one morning, she woke to find her absymal store of money vanished from its hiding spot, and Daniel telling her not to strain herself with working. The same shrewdness was in his face all the while, and she understood the one bank account, the refusal of work, the move away from family. He had pinned her, and, like a madman, was refusing to let her have interaction with things that could spur her abandonment.
So Alice, 19, alone, and wasted, began to dry off her baby. Again in the kitchen, cold water draining into the disposal. She looked down and saw the baby's dusting of dark hair, the calm eyes.
She looked like Alice.
It was the first time the wretched girl realized something like this, and instead of joy, or pride, the same chill of terror spread down her spine. They were both prisoners of this place, with nothing to their future. No money, no car, not even cab fare. The damned apartment might not have had locks or bars, but Daniel's careful planning made it so.
Alice, in her mind, saw the sparse food in the fridge, the lights that would shut off at any moment, the faucets that ran dry when bills could not be paid. She saw the baby. She saw herself. They were two in one. She would see the baby wither as she did, in small dark rooms with food past it's sell date, with Daniel strapping his suffocating arms across them as they grew and rotted.
This baby was not hers, nor did Daniel have a right to it. It was just another chain, and she pitied it. Daniel had made it so.
Alice picked up the baby, and held it against her for a moment. The girl did not struggle or whine, just remained still. And between the two bodies, a sad understanding passed. The air grew still again, the dark corners converging, and Alice filled the sink with warm water.
Again, she met eyes with the infant, indentical eyes.
She couldn't allow it to be Alice.
She kissed the little forehead, brushed aside the wisps the hair with a sad affection she had known herself capable of. Then sat the child down in the sink.
A moment passed, and the support she offered was withdrawn, except for her hand, which she kept on the baby's wrist.
Nothing happened, as she had expected. Nothing had leapt out to strangle her, Daniel had not plowed her away. There was just Alice, the sink, the memories and the baby, her hand on it's wrist. A knowing little smile creeped across Alice's face all the while.
It was over in a few minutes, with no fuss or tears.
Alice lifted the baby out, and towled it dry again, wrapping her up and leaving her on the counter as before. The smile would not wipe off her face, and she left the kitchen and crossed the apartment, disapearing into it's darkness.
There was the click of a door, and again the rooms were flooded with silence.
And soon, both Mother and Daughter were as they once were, trussed up like cellophane candy, innocent, beautiful, and undeniably perfect in almost every way.
