Kagikos Weblog

Although KJ didn't like changes, she wasn't the kind of person who couldn't cope with unexpected situations. Also, having a lot of money helped. So, after a few days, she'd settled into her new rhythm of life.

There was a crib in her bedroom now. She got up a bit earlier than before, fed and clothed the baby, let the babysitter in - Carmen, a young woman from Colombia who barely spoke English -, went to work, cut her lunchbreak short by half an hour, and went home half an hour early. Carmen cooked dinner, cleaned the apartment and filled several bottles with baby formula before KJ came home, so all she had to do was pay the girl and send her home. She then continued to work with Abraham on her lap or in a hammock by her side, feeding him whenever he seemed hungry. She didn't really play with him a lot. She wasn't the motherly type, and she assumed (correctly) that Carmen had more nerves for games than she did. However, she read to him: mostly things she needed to read for work, anyway, but sometimes, real stories. She also got rid of her TV; it wasn't supposed to be good for children, and when she watched a show, it kept Abraham from falling asleep.

One day, KJ read online that children could learn sign language before they could learn to speak, and that this reduced the frustration of not being able to communicate. Apparently, this also made it easier to learn speaking later on. It seemed to make sense to her, so she started signing and speaking to Abraham simultaneously. After a while, he began mimicking her movements, then started using them in the right context, just by himself.

Abraham also learned to sit up, then turn himself around, then crawl. KJ booked a place for him in a good kindergarten and let Carmen bring him there every morning. She found other work for Carmen to do while the baby was gone - the Colombian now also took care of the laundry and buying groceries.

Eventually, Abraham started signing whole sentences, and at the same time saying his first words: "Carmen", "KJ", "jugar" (the spanish word for "play" - Carmen talked to him in Spanish), and "Lilo". Lilo was his stuffed frog, a horribly cute thing with huge eyes and a cheesy smile that KJ couldn't stand but that Carmen had insisted on buying. She thought that every child had to have a stuffed animal, and Abraham seemingly couldn't agree more. He adored the thing. 

She bent down, stared at the newborn, whose face was scrunched up and red, and then noticed the letter lying on its stomach.

Finally, realizing that her neighbors would come looking for the source of the horrible sound, she took the basket the child was lying in and brought it inside. Immediately, the baby stopped wailing. She opened the letter and read.

I'm sorry. I thought we would manage, but I can't do this. I couldn't get rid of him in time and now I can't live with him. His name is Abraham. Please don't give him away. He's my child, I want to know he's safe. I just can't live this way.

Please don't tell anybody he's mine. It's too dangerous. I'm trying to get help. I'll come get him when I'm able to. 

Eight months later

When KJ returned from the party - the second semester art students had celebrated their first exhibition, and as the organizer, she'd been invited - she stumbled over something lying on her doormat.

She was high. Art students weren't exactly the innocent, law-obeying kind of students, at least not the ones here in town, and they assumend that this was true for everybody at that party. She had been invited to a joint and a variety of pills, of which she had tried "only" four different kinds. She considered herself fairly responsible in that respect, but she'd had a hard time lately; the pills had made her forget the memories bothering her, and had made her see a colorful, thrilling fantasy world instead.

So, when she realized what she had stumbled over, she dismissed it as another hallucination, just like the snakes and golems she had seen on her way home, simply stepped over it and closed the door.

She made herself a drink and turned on the TV, but the crime investigation series she watched had a horrible wailing siren on that made her get a headache. She switched to another station and finished her drink.

When she went to get another one, she heard the siren again. It didn't make any sense; she was watching a sitcom, there shouldn't be any sirens in there.

She listened more closely. It wasn't the TV. It was outside the door.

She rolled her eyes - it was probably the stupid, eight-year-old brat from next door refusing to go to bed - and went to get earplugs from the bathroom.

After she had put them in - wonderful, peaceful silence, thank god - she thought about the sound again. It had been too near; it hadn't been next door, it was right outside of her apartment.

Reluctantly, she went back and opened the door. The hallucination was still there, and it was being way too noisy for a product of her imagination.

It was not a hallucination after all. It was really what it looked like. It was a newborn baby. 

KJ,

You are my best friend and a wonderful person, and you are used to fixing everything that ever goes wrong. You are amazing and I love you, but there is something new in my life that I have to fix myself. It was wrong to ask you for help with this in the first place, even though you probably have no idea what I'm talking about. Don't worry, I might be gone for a few months. I'll write you letters, I guess.

See you then,

Jenna 

KJ stared at the letter that she had found on her doormat. Jenna was gone.  Really gone. She had called Jenna's home phone, her mobile phone, her boss - apparently, she'd quit the job out of the blue - and even her super-annoying parents. Nobody knew anything.

She never called Jenna when she was still here, it was always Jenna who had to make the effort to get them to meet and do things together, and KJ had always felt good in the absence of friends, but now she felt lonely. Being alone was only nice when it was solely your choice - and even though there were still a lot of people who would give years of their lives to go out with her, no one understood her the way Jenna did.

And now she was gone. 

KJ was at the opening ceremony of an exhibition about dance in modern paintings when she felt her mobile phone, which was of course turned mute, vibrate against her hip. She excused herself from the rich and boring couple she was talking to and went outside. Despite the fact that she usually hated being called on her cell phone, this time, she was glad - small talk with these people had been even worse, they had no idea about art at all.

"Hey. What's up?"

"Hey, KJ, it's me."

"I'm working, you know. I should be kissing people's behinds to get their money right now."

It sounded unfriendly, but Jenna knew KJ well enough to catch the slight sense of humour behind the words, even though KJ maybe wasn't even aware of it herself.

"I don't want to hold you up for long, then. It's just - I have a problem here."

"Whatever it is, I'll fix it, okay? But not now. Now I have to fix this city's underfinanced cultural life. We'll talk tomorrow."

"...Right. Whatever."

"Jenna"-

Jenna had cut the connection. Unbelievingly, KJ stared at the phone. She was the one who cut the connection, always had been.

She shrugged it off and went back inside.