Skinny and the
Alien
“Is that you, Skinny?”
Kaila recognized the woman from their
neighborhood. Nilda’s bulk filled the space in the open door, her body muffling the rolling squeak
of gurneys down the hall, the swish of curtains on metal hooks, exaggerated voices assuring others that everything would be
okay. Nilda wasn’t big enough to hide the intermittent shrieks from other labor rooms, but she zoomed
comfort into Kaila with hot-chocolate eyes.
“It’s me,” Kaila groaned.
“Haven’t seen you for a long time. Forgot you were a nurse.”
“Why
you in here, baby girl?” When Nilda waddled from the door, the noise came back inside the room with
her. A gurney rushed past the door in a race to the delivery room.
The stupid
question made Kaila smile. “I’m having a baby. Why else would I be laying
in a place like this?”
“Just yesterday you were singing in the junior
choir,” Nilda said, putting on her signature sacred expression. She’d worn the same look when
she’d sat in the third row of the sanctuary when their chorus of street punks sang. “Voice
like an angel. Kae was so proud of you.”
Until that
second, a cord of intimacy had connected them. But at the mention of her mother, Kaila turned her face
to the window. Getting dark now, grey and dense. Cold. She shuddered.
“Let
me get you another blanket.”
“I’m okay. I just wanna to
get it over with.” She felt Nilda’s hand wrap around her ankle.
