Greta Van Fleet Imagines

special delivery-sfk

Parenthood.

You always said you were ready for it. Ready to move onto the next step. Sam was on board, his career stable enough to support a family with a rough-edged routine that had become manageable. Your life was the same. While more stationary, it wasn't uncommon for women to begin having children. You had a stable job with a stable income. A home and a partner that always came home. It was a nice life. The idea of parenthood always came with a warning, a nine-month period of preparation and advice from family and friends.

Sometimes you felt guilty for enjoying your childless life. You had such a good time relaxing with Sam when he was home. It was also nice to take spontaneous trips to see him when he was nearby. Having kids wouldn't allow for that. The guilt came from the idea of holding off. Waiting so you could live your early twenties like a wild card, being able to leave and adapt to anything that came your way. While both of you secretly longed for kids, it never happened. Despite stopping contraceptives, besides the occasional condom, your body never seemed to keep an embryo. It was an ambivalent feeling. Sort of disappointing, yet almost a relief.

You tried to wrap your head around the situation. It was winter. Sam was home, playing the piano upstairs in the solace of the spare room. The two-bedroom home was comfortable for the two of you. While it used to be a guest room, he turned it into a workspace/studio, often spending hours composing original pieces. You often left him alone, happy to have background noise while you did your own things around the house. It wasn't often that you sat alone in the living room, preferring the dining room table or the home office that was attached to the living room. If you hadn't been sitting there reading the novel you'd read a hundred times, and if Sam hadn't stopped playing, you weren't sure how long the knock would have gone unnoticed.

You glanced at the door, silently wondering who would be knocking on the door. It was almost midnight and one of the coldest days of the year. There was a feeling in your stomach that you couldn't quite shake. Instead of waiting, you decided to get up, peering through the side window. The only thing you could see was a shadow on the porch. Josh must have stopped to drop by the pans and serving plates from the Christmas dinner at his place. You opened the door, shocked at the sight of a car seat on the doormat.

A baby was sleeping peacefully, wrapped in blankets and beneath an insulated cover, completely unaware of their surroundings. Sam's feet pattered downstairs, not noticing the breeze coming in from the front door.

You looked around for any sign of someone. The only car was yours; Sam's was parked in the garage. The neighbors were gone for a few weeks, holiday season, they said. The snow on the sidewalk had been shoveled earlier, making it impossible to see any new footprints. It was almost like the baby had just appeared like magic. You picked up the seat and the diaper bag that was beside the child. The car seat came with the entire bottom, like the parent had taken it out all in one piece.

"There you are," Sam said, nearly dropping his sandwich when he noticed the child in your hands. He was completely speechless, something rare. The boy always had something to say, but now he was flabbergasted. You took a moment to look at his face. He was pale, probably doing the math in his head.

"Someone left them at the door," you explained, setting the seat on the dining room table. "Is it yours?"

Sam shook his head. "Considering how small they are, I don't think so. Maybe they have the wrong brother." He had a point. The baby couldn't have been more a few weeks. "Shouldn't we call the police?" He asked. "I mean, this is considered abandonment, right?"

You thought about it, but there was a gut feeling that it was something more. You carefully removed the car seat cover, finding small blankets and clothes tucked around the baby. Considering all the pink, you assumed she was a girl. There was a little red envelope. You looked for a name, finding yours in gold ink.

It all clicked.

Sasha was a classmate of yours in college. Her family struggled with finances, addiction a huge factor. Sometimes she fell off the wagon, struggling to claws her way back in. The baby, who she named Penelope, was only two months old. She explained in her letter that post-partum hit her hard, making her even less motivated than before. Paired with her recurring addiction, she knew that she wouldn't be able to provide for Penelope like she wanted to, like she deserved.

You're the only one I can trust.

The sentence right before her signature echoed in your mind. All the times she uttered it to you played on a loop. When you found her slumped in the bathroom between your dorm rooms and she begged you to take her to the clinic without telling the RA. When she thought she was pregnant, or the time her boyfriend hit her, and she sobbed to you all night. You were the only constant in Sasha's life, and even thought you hadn't seen her in well over two years, she still had that trust and faith in you.

Sam looked at you. Ultimately it was your choice. He unpacked the diaper bag. There were the necessities like what formula she drank along with photos of brands and how they affected her. A few diapers to last through the night. There were also binkies, small rattles, some clothes, and a red folder. Inside the folder, along with her medical history, was a form with a notarized letter that if you would take Penelope, she was legally under your care. If you decided against it, you would have to see her lawyer and a case worker to put her into the foster care system. The folder also had a key and an address to Sasha's old apartment where there was more baby stuff waiting.

Penelope began to stir, her little mouth smacking. She opened her eyes, pouting up at you. She moved her body, signaling that she wanted out.

"She's awake," Sam whispered, beginning to pull the Velcro car seat cover off. Seeing him pull her from the car seat, cradling her in his arms made your heart melt.

"I think I'm going to do this," you said.

"This is why I love you," he said, returning his attention to the little girl in his arms.

While you would have liked a warning, there were so many things you could do for Penelope that her mother wouldn't have the chance to. Despite never meeting her before this moment, there was something that made it impossible to refuse her. Sam was babbling to her, entertaining her. You took a moment, preparing yourself for the long nights with Penelope.