Catherine

Catherine hadn’t looked away from the tattered cardboard box for about twenty minutes. She was lying on her back, her neck craned in such a way that she could see the shoreline and the breakers through the mini blinds.

They liked it here. Not only was her husband, Greg, minutes from work, but it kept the Houston-friends away and removed Catherine from the questions that would inevitably be asked. It was easier here, to comb the beach with her eyes, to feel the loss, and at night, over simple meals, to talk with Greg about it. But this weekend would be different. Greg had an oil convention back in Houston, and these would be her first days alone in the beach house. 

She was well acquainted with the logo on the box. Little One's Rubber Nipples. Little One’s cornered the market on rubber nipples and other specialty silicone goods in the south. Catherine still had a small box of them on the shelf in the nursery closet back home. 

She had considered the possibility of working while she was down here to keep her mind fresh, but it would be August before she knew it, and it would be back to teaching until Christmas. Maybe a simple odd job wouldn't be so bad. All she could think of was the snow-cone stand and the roller rink, but her coffee was becoming more drinkable, and nothing sounded better than to sit here and watch the box.

It was out of place. Not that Catherine hadn’t already noticed the countless pieces of trash and abandoned cardboard all over Galveston and Port Bolivar, but this box still had four walls and stability. She imagined it as washed up treasure. Or as drug money disguised as baby bottle tops. Or as a box filled with puppies, needing a mom, or even a child. She imagined a small baby hand breaching the opening, scraping at the expansive Texas sky and then falling back inside. The hand repeated this several times, and it thrilled Catherine to think of a baby cradled in packing peanuts nestled in the sand. She rubbed her eyes and went to the coffeepot for a warmup, getting the image out of her head. On her way back to the window, she paused for a second. The wind gusted and a pale, pink knitted cap drifted away from the box and skipped into the dunes further down the beach. It snagged in the reeds and waved like a small, pink flag. Catherine lowered herself, slowly placing the mug on the table, never taking her eyes off of the box, which was now taking on a wave here and there. The corners darkened with saltwater. Catherine hadn't so much as jogged since January, yet in seconds she was sprinting down the boardwalk, the screen door slamming behind her, and quickly she was over the dunes. 

There were now two hands thrusting out of the box and to confirm her vision from the house, a faint cry grew louder as she approached. 

"A baby!" she said as her hands reached into the box. The child was wrapped in a pink swaddling cloth which matched the cap. 

"Why are you here, huh? Where is your mother?" She asked.

The baby's cries softened into heavy breaths. Her red face cooled as Catherine removed the warm, damp cloth from around the baby's body. The little eyes met Catherine’s. The sound of the waves hushed. The hums of air conditioning units ceased. All Catherine could hear was the baby’s whimpering breaths and the pounding of her own heart. 

Catherine searched the beach for any figure retreating down the coastline. The only thing moving was a large bird stirring from Catherine’s sudden sprints. She nervously scanned the windows of her neighbors, and without hesitating, Catherine placed the baby back in the box, pressed it into her chest and shuffled back into the house.

She went upstairs and immediately made a list of things she would need from the store. She had to get her some outfits, a couple of baby blankets, bottles, formula, and even a breast pump in case there was still something left in her. She cleaned the kitchen and prepared the master bedroom for the baby’s first night in the house.  

She then went downstairs to find the baby sleeping nicely on the nest she had made for it and the fan still oscillating in the corner. The door closed behind Catherine and woke the newborn. Cries erupted from the closet.

“Oh poor, Baby. You must be hungry. How did you sleep?” Catherine asked.

“Let’s get you some food today! What do you think?” 

Catherine fantasized about holding her new baby and strolling down the aisles of the seawall Walmart. So, around ten that morning, she packed the baby girl in the nipples box with blankets and buckled her into the back seat. She then added a car seat to her shopping list before pulling away from the house.

Catherine was a nervous new mother, and although she had prepared for this once before, caring for a baby was much more work than preparing for one. She found it very pleasing, though, to be out of the house running errands for this little girl. It felt liberating to Catherine to have responsibility again. 

She circled the parking lot and spotted a sign that read “For Expecting and New Mother’s.” Catherine felt only slightly guilty for pulling into the spot, but was grateful for the convenience of being close to the door. 

She carried the baby girl inside the store and to her delight she found one of those carts with the baby carrier built right in. After fastening her in, Catherine headed towards the car seat aisle. The nipples box needed to go and couldn’t be trusted in moving her precious baby around town. The product labels on the baby aisle were comforting to Catherine. They all sounded so light and fluffy. She touched every blanket and bib for softness.

“She is so cute. What is her name?” A middle-aged store employee said.

Catherine hesitated. In all the commotion of finding her and preparing the house, she had not even thought to give her new baby girl a proper name. She thought quickly.

“Laurie.”

“Oh, that is a very sweet name for a very sweet girl,” the woman said. “Enjoy these moments, Honey. It seems that in a matter of days they just up and fly away.”

“Thank you very much, ma’am” And with that Catherine was alone again with her daughter. She quickly grabbed the remaining items from her list and knowing Laurie must be getting hungry, she hurried to the checkout line and then to the car.

The only trick would be explaining all this to Greg. He would never let her keep Laurie knowing she found her and kept her the entire time he was gone. Why hadn’t she called someone? It’s not that simple, she kept telling herself. This is my chance. Maybe I could call him on his way home and tell him I had just found her. That way I can be with her for a few days. What if they would let us keep her until they figured it all out? Like her adopted parents.

She still had a couple of days to sort through that, and until then she planned to enjoy as many moments with Little Laurie as she could, just as the woman had encouraged her to.

When they got home, Laurie drank two full bottles of the formula. Catherine made a pallet for her on the living room rug, using some soft throw blankets and the pillow set from the couch. She laughed at how natural of a mother she had become in just a matter of hours. She ate a bit of leftover roast and washed the new baby blankets she had picked out. Laurie was quietly cooing in her new onesie, garishly silk screened with a cartoon stork holding a baby bundle in its mouth. Underneath the bird said, “Mommy’s Little Surprise.” How fitting, she thought. She couldn’t have picked a better outfit for her little girl on her first full day at home.

It was around 6:30pm when the crying started and Catherine couldn’t get her to calm down. She was not wanting any more formula, and the pacifiers weren’t working either. Her diaper was still clean. She drew her a bath in the kitchen sink. Surely this was the problem. Maybe the salt water had irritated her skin. How bad of a mother she was for not bathing her sooner. Catherine picked her up from the rug and unwrapped her from the blankets and to undo the snaps from the onesie when she noticed red bumps all over Laurie’s legs and arms. Some had broken skin and blood had pooled around the sores. She considered chickenpox or measles, but after looking up the symptoms online, she was left with no answers. None of them resembled the red sores on Laurie. She went ahead with the bath, hoping the warm water would give her some relief, and it did. Laurie calmed down and her screams settled into choppy breaths. Catherine dressed her back into the onesie and set her down to sleep for the night in her makeshift crib. 

After Catherine had put away the food, and gotten rid of the opened packaging from all of her grocery store finds, she sat on the couch and stared at her beautiful girl sleeping. She was still anxious about the spots but thought surely they would be gone by the morning. Surely it was the salt water. And not much longer after that, Catherine fell asleep as well.

She dreamed she had awoken on the couch to a loud knock on the door. It was the middle of the night and she called for Greg. No answer came. She shuffled her feet to the front door and looked through the peephole. Staring back at her was a large silk-screened cartoon bird eye. 

“I’ve got a surpriiise for you, mommy!” said an animated voice from behind the door. 

Excited, Catherine swung open the door to find the cartoon stork hovering over a red gift-wrapped box, flapping its wings so hard Catherine’s hair was flying into her face and dust from the porch was in her eyes. She smiled at the stork and began ripping away at the wrapping paper; her eyes wide with curiosity. The top flaps of the box said “Little One's Rubber Nipples” and she could feel the bottom of the box was soggy and cold. The top was taped down but using just her hands she pulled back the flaps to reveal a box full to the top of orange, translucent rubber nipples.

“WHERE IS SHE!” She shouted at the stork, whose beak seemed to curve into a slight smile. 

“WHERE IS MY LAURIE? WHERE IS MY LAURIE?”

And with that, the stork flew off into the night.

Catherine woke to Laurie’s screams filling the beach house living room. Her heart still racing from her dream, she shot up and took her in her arms. She gave a louder squawking cry. 

“It’s ok, baby. You’re fine. Mommy’s got you.” 

Catherine had soaked through her shirt with sweat. She was sweating so much she could feel the baby blanket getting wet under her arms. She took Laurie with her up to the bedroom so she could change shirts and possibly calm her down. She must be hungry, Catherine thought as she went up to her room. The blanket was getting wetter and wetter, and it wasn’t until Catherine set Laurie down on her and Greg’s bed that she noticed the blood all over the baby blanket. Checking herself, she only found a small stain on her shirt. She quickly unwrapped the baby, finding sticky blood coating Laurie’s legs, arms, and chest. Using her fingers, she felt the sores. Each one was bleeding now and at the center of each was a sharp black hair. She took off her shirt and began wiping the blood off of Laurie’s legs. The pressure on the hairs pulled at the baby’s tender skin, causing the blood to flow faster. Laurie began screaming so heavily that her voice didn’t sound human.

Catherine rushed her to the bathroom sink and began washing her arms and legs, trying to remove the syrupy blood to get a better look at what was coming out of them. The hairs had doubled in size since she found them. The baby’s cries stopped altogether. Catherine could tell she wasn’t getting full breaths as she held her under the faucet. She noticed the sun was coming up. It was daytime. Something about the light coming into her room through the blinds gave her hope that she could get Laurie to the doctor. Maybe they could fix her. Maybe they could stop the bleeding. She could say she found her on the beach this morning. No one would have to know how long she had her. Looking back at the baby, she noticed the hairs on her arms were growing longer and into what looked like small tubes. All over her body, each hair began growing longer and fanning out into small white feathers. The feathers on her arms were a dusty gray. The feathers coming off her backside were the darkest black she had ever seen. The bleeding was slowing, it seemed, as Catherine watched the baby’s legs shrink to the size of sticks. The soft skin hardened into a calloused brown hide. The toenails became black and pointed. She looked at the baby’s face for signs of breathing, but the only thing she saw was a thick maroon beak breaking through what used to be little Laurie’s nose.

Suddenly, the bird shook violently. Its eye’s opened and locked onto Catherine in sheer terror. It freed itself and began flying around the bedroom. Catherine was completely still, not knowing whether to catch it or let it fly. It flew into the vanity mirror and landed on the table, knocking lipstick canisters and plastic boxes of eye shadow to the ground. A few feathers fell on the carpet as the bird frantically flapped its wings, trying to find an exit. It flew to the hallway and down the stairs, out of Catherine’s sight. She stayed gripping the bathroom counter, covered in blood and small white feathers. 

She could hear it knocking over the lamp near the bay window. She heard it land on the dirty dishes she had left in the sink. Its squawks were deafening. She heard it land on the marble kitchen island, and then silence. Catherine ran to the bedroom door and shut it. She turned the lock on the handle, leaned against the door, and for what seemed like days she sat and watched the Saturday sunrise. 

Around ten o’clock she pulled herself up from the floor. She unlocked the knob and made her way to the carpeted stairwell. As she reached the foot of the stairs, she could see a few feathers and a dried spot of bird droppings on the linoleum. She walked downstairs and found the bird sitting on the marble-topped kitchen island. It looked at her with terror in its beady eyes. Catherine moved as slowly as she could, trying not to disturb the bird. Maybe it’s hungry, she thought. Maybe it needs to know I'm friendly. She glanced over at the bread box, remembering the moldy loaf heels she had left in the plastic bag. The bird, making no quick movements, kept its eyes on Catherine as she lifted the roll-top covering and brought out two slices of bread. 

She pulled a piece from the dry heel and tossed it onto the counter, only an inch from the bird. Its dark eyes darted to the bread, and only moments later it snatched up the piece and swallowed it whole. She threw another piece while taking one step closer to the island. The bird, like before, ate it immediately. 

“See, I knew you were hungry.” Her voice was shaking. 

She tossed two more pieces and took two more steps towards the bird. 

“I am a good mommy, Laurie. You were just hungry.”

The bird, noticing the closeness of Catherine, became skittish but stayed put waiting for more bread. 

“You just needed mommy to feed you something.”

She tossed one more piece to the bird, and before it could grab it, Catherine had the bird in her hands, pressed against her chest. The bird went wild, flapping its fresh wings in Catherine’s face, but she gripped tighter and tighter as she walked towards the back patio doors. Its beak made slashes on her wrists. She stepped over the blankets and pillows left on the rug and moved past the overturned lamp by the bay window. 

“Calm down, Little Laurie. I’ll let you go soon,” she said as she shifted the bird to one hand and undid the deadbolt of the back door. 

She stepped out onto the patio and shut the door behind her. There were two kids running along the shore. A mom, twenty yards away, sat quietly reading a magazine in a beach chair. A few boats were out on the water. A man sat alone on the nearby jetty, probably fishing. No one noticed Catherine on her patio, holding the seagull against her bare chest. Reluctantly, she tossed the flailing bird into the salty wet air. Without hesitation, it flapped its wings and took off towards the shoreline where a large group of seagulls was gathering around the two kids who were tossing bits of their lunch into the air. 

Catherine watched her bird flying and mixing with the group until she couldn’t tell Laurie from the others and silently returned to the living room.