HELPER12, Jack Blaine [reading in the dark .TXT] 📗

his aren't cold.  What would it be like to look at another person and recognize your eyes there, in their face?

“I hardly think that I pose a threat, Thomas.”

“The babies aren't through all their inoculations—they are not fully protected yet.”  The Director couldn’t sound more uncertain.

Despite the Director’s words, she advances.  I don't flinch when she takes another step toward the crib.  She won't be touching any of my babies without a gown and gloves.

Finally the Director speaks up.  They’re worth nothing, these Directors.  They don't do any work, and this one seems so scared of the Society lady that he can't speak above a whisper.

“We really should observe protocol in terms of the possibility of disease—”

“Disease?"  The Society lady sneers. "Are you suggesting that I—”

“Calm down, Anna.”  A man enters the room.  He's Society, too.  Must be Dad.

“Sir," the Director stutters.  I—”

“Never mind."  The man exchanges a look with the boy—Thomas—and places his own hand on the woman's arm.  The boy steps back, looking relieved.

"I'm sure Anna is just excited.  It's been a long time, getting to this step.”  He looks at the woman.

“Anna, let's see what we need to do to be safe.  After all, we don't want to take any chances with his health.”

The woman softens.  She shakes her head and smiles.

“I guess I was being a bit pushy."  She looks at the Director.  "I'm sorry.  I'm just excited.”  She doesn't look at me.

“Understandable, Ms. Sloane.  Completely understandable.”  The Director beams at her.  “We'll just get you a gown and some gloves and we'll be all set.”  He turns to me.

“Helper . . .” he scans my badge.  “Helper12, get some gowns and gloves for the Sloanes.  They're visiting Baby4 today.”

Baby4 is Jobee.

I go to the wall cabinet and take out gowns.  I get three pairs of gloves from the box.  I feel a buzzy sensation on the crown of my head.  It’s like my scalp is vibrating in a strange way.  I cannot bring myself to look at the faces when I hand out the gowns and gloves; I just hold out the packets and watch the sets of hands grabbing them.  Hers seem like greedy monkey hands, snatching at the gown, clutching at the gloves.  I turn away and look at the babies, listening to the rustling behind me.

Soon enough, the rustling stops, and when I turn, I see two of them are outfitted in the sterile coverings.  The boy hangs back, his gown and gloves still in their packages.  The woman is front and center, eager to get past me.

“Helper12, hand Ms. Sloane Baby4.”  The Director doesn’t pretend that it’s a request—it’s an order, loud and clear.

I turn back to the cribs, wondering what is going on.  The Pre Ward never has visitors like this.  What are they doing here?  I lean over Jobee’s crib and scoop him up.  I whisper to him as I circle back toward them, sounds that don’t form words.  I hope he knows what I mean.

She’s reaching, grasping for him.  She’s so quick to take him his head wobbles unsupported for a moment.  I take her hand and place it beneath his head, holding it there with my own until she seems to get it.  I don’t care how she glares.

“I have raised a baby.”  She nods toward her son.

I just smile, though behind my lips, my teeth are gritted tight.

She forgets me quick, looking down at Jobee.  He is sweet, a sweet boy, hardly ever fitful.  Still, he has a great set of lungs, and I wonder what she would think of his occasional tantrums.  I smile a real smile, just thinking of how strong he can be.

“Oh John.  Look at him.”  The woman clucks some more, and holds Jobee up toward the father.  I notice the son stays back from all of this.

“He’s a fine specimen.”  The man is watching the woman’s face, not Jobee’s.  He looks hopeful.  I sneak a glance at the boy.  He looks skeptical.  He catches me looking and his expression goes blank.

“When can we have him?’  The woman looks at the Director.  She sounds like she’s ordering a new sofa.

“Well, he’ll have to have all of his inoculations, and we’ll have to do some . . . we’ll have to make some arrangements.”  The Director looks at me.  After a few seconds I remember to shut my mouth.

I think this is one of those illegal adoptions.

I’ve heard of them.  There are whispers now and then around the Ward, but I always thought people were just making things up.  It would cost so much to buy everyone involved off.  And regulations are so tight surrounding the babies.  Or at least, that’s what I thought.

“How long?”  The woman’s mouth gets thin, like she’s not used to having to ask the same question twice.

The Director looks at me.  “When is the last set of shots for this one?”

I wish I didn’t have to answer.  “He’s due to have them in two days.”

“That works perfectly!”  The woman smiles.  “He’s so close, you can just give them to him tonight.”  She gazes up at the man.  “Darling, won’t it be perfect?”

Mr. Sloane smiles down at her.  “Are you sure you want to move that fast dear?’

She frowns.  “Of course.”

“I only meant that we have that trip planned.”  Mr. Sloane tilts his head at her.  “Our anniversary trip.  Only two weeks away, and we’ll be gone for three.  Who will watch over this little one while we’re gone?  Thomas will be off at school, and it would be too much for him even if he wasn’t.”

“Oh!”  The woman sounds perplexed. But then she smiles again.  “We’ll have to have a Nanny, of course, like we did with Thomas and . . .”  Her voice trails off momentarily.  “We’ll just be sure to hire one before then.”

The Director looks uncomfortable.  He sniffs and studies the toes of his shiny black shoes.  Mr. Sloane frowns at the woman.

“But dear,” he says.  “We can’t go through an agency for that