Flash Fiction II

The second time we did a flash fiction day (four weeks later) there were two wrinkles. The first is that I now knew that sometimes people tried to copy the style of others in the class, or modify how they write, to make it harder to guess who wrote what. The second wrinkle is that our professor gave us a challenge - write the piece without using one letter. Ideally the missing letter should be something that would be important, not a q, j or z. I had already started working on a piece, and since it was first person, I decided to write it without using the letter i. Try it some time. It's fun.

Truth

The old lady nods and beams at me, the baby clutched to her chest. Confused, my words tumble out, “No. She can not be my daughter. Tell them. Tell them that!” Our translator doesn't deserve my anger, but nobody else presents themselves as a target.

He speaks to the lawyer who works for the placement agency. Not enough words are exchenged. He turns to me, “No, they know. Your daughter. Huan Yue.”

“No! Look at the old lady. She holds a baby! She can't be more than two months old. Huan Yue was born fourteen months ago!” My purse holds photographs of Huan Yue that have come to us from Hangzhou over the past seven months. The newest ones are always ready to show our folks, co-workers, and other people who we would see. As the only attachment we've had to our baby daughter for seven months, they are treasures to us.

Pulled from my purse, the small framed photograph acts as my proof, shown to the translator, to the lawyer, to the old lady, even to the baby herself. “Look! Here you can see Huan Yue! Here you can see my daughter! You do not have Huan Yue!”

My heart beats faster. My breath catches. The walls encroach upon my body. We have made plans for today for over a year. We completed such a great deal of work, and expended so much energy to be able to come here. Then, at last, we learned that there was a baby who would be able to become our daughter. We accepted Huan Yue as a part of our household. She was our baby daughter, even though she was across an ocean. She was ours.

And now, after seven long months, my daughter should be before me, and they present me a falsehood! After a thousand dreams where we meet, Huan Yue held to my breast, her small cheek pressed to my blouse, and they offer a fake. A fraud!

Who can come to my rescue? My husband, back at the hotel, probably on the bathroom floor? He has suffered from some unknown malady upon the moment we landed at Hangzhou. Our help here was supposed to be the agency attorney, yet he refuses to acknowledge the truth!

The attorney takes the baby and comes at me, places her upon my arms. “Huan Yue. Yes.”

He looks at me, nods and backs away. Do they see me as a fool? Slowly the facts become clear to me. Only two ways to choose are before me – take the baby offered to me home, or return empty handed, alone.

The baby opens her eyes and reaches out a small hand. She looks at me, dark eyes aglow. She was a blameless pawn, used by others to secure some goal.

A prayer forms as my thoughts turn to the real Huan Yue. May she have a home where she can grow, play and learn. May she have a mother and father to care for her. May she have love.

“Yes. My baby.”