--OUR HEARTS BEAT LIKE THUNDER. I DON'T KNOW WHY THEY DON'T EXPLODE
...It's another sunny day here, sky the color of a baby blue quilt.
So, for some reason, i wrote this...
There was something wrong with the baby. Sunlight could kill it. My wife blamed herself, thinking it was payback from all the drugs she took in college. When I said, “That’s crazy talk,” she reached up and slapped me.
The baby had my nose already, but her forehead. It looked like a normal newborn, squished and rashy.
Doctors said it was an extremely rare condition. One said there were ways around it. Another, “Things could be worse.”
The baby’s mother and I fought about how to proceed, fought so much that we didn’t seem married anymore.
And then we weren’t.
Whenever I visited after that, there were always other women in the house. They wore old-fashioned capes and matching bonnets, never smiled or spoke.
My wife thought the child possessed, maybe even a vampire. Canisters with burning incense tossed off a bonfire smell.
I hired a lawyer. I called the county. They all said the same thing—everyone rears a child differently.
So I gave up, made her happy, and moved to a country near the equator. I found a new woman and got married. Every day of the year we have sun, abundant sunshine, but no kids.