Her Purpose
A short story. By Emma Brattin.
Goldfield, Nevada: A ghost town. April 2011. Photography by Emma Brattin.
He’d kept her hidden now for eight months. Hidden like a dirty secret. She knows it is not time yet, but the pain wrapping around her swollen belly reminds her she isn’t in control. He said it is time. She watches the fluid drip through the clear tubes and disappear into her hand as he checks the dosage. She can’t look down at her round stomach, instead she stares at the ceiling, not really seeing anything. Another flash of pain and she grimaces, clenching the blankets swirled around her sweat-drenched body.
She knew her assignment when he brought her here, but she never realized how painful the final moments would be. Her heart ached at what she was about to give up, to walk away from forever. She would soon have to pretend the whole event never happened, and she had to do it alone. Silent tears flooded down her cheek as she felt another slice of hell pierce her groin.
I need a successor. I’ll pay you well, he’d said so matter of fact. But once the baby is born, you may never tell anybody, nor can you return. And she’d agreed because she was bored with life, and the whole thing sounded like some romantic adventure. He’d seen to it that she was fed, comfortable and given appropriate medical care. Beyond that, she never saw him, nor anybody. All she’d had was this growing living thing inside her. She’d felt inadequate for this task but discovered she only had to take good care of herself. She grew to love the life inside her. Part hers, part his, but owned by him, and not hers at all.
He approaches as she’s writhing in pain. I’m near death, she says. He glances down at the floor near her feet and sighs loudly. She forgets she doesn’t want to look and rolls her head to the side to see around the lump to the floor. Red. Liquid. So much. Too much. Stars. Lights. No, he said. No, keep here. It’s time to push. You have to push. Now! She screams and begs to die. She wants to follow the stars she sees behind her eyes. Stay here for the baby! Stay! Be here! Push! She bears down one more time.
Crying. A squealing cry. A squawk. A newborn cry. A healthy girl, she’s okay. He sounds like he is crying, too. She forces her heavy eyelids open, sees the beautiful messy thing squawking in his arms. I made her, she smiles softly. At peace, she closes her eyes and lets the darkness overtake her.