It's Just Gas, Dear

We are all born with our disadvantages.

And Lara's was being born wealthy. Or so she thought on this particular day as she sat listening to the mundane prattle of her fellow "wives". This is what she termed the women she met regularly for brunch or wine; women who had nothing better to say, but to brag of the raises of husbands, grades of children, or how the advantages of the latest designer bag. Lara silently cringed. Cringed and smiled, smiled and cringed, and every instant her soul shrivelling inside her. Or this was her current train of thought.

Meaningless. Accessories. Nothing important. Nothing meaning anything! A scream of pointlessness into a void of raises and Louis Vuitton! For this I gave up a promising career in education...or at least a meaningful career. Fuck.

Lara took a careful, controlled nibble at her $20 salad. It tasted like shit. Why had she come? Because it was expected of her. She hated them all. Hated their expensive clothes, their pointless lives, and how they wore their children and husbands like rare accessories. She had more important things on her mind: the lives or her children or rather the quality of life of her children.

Once free of the wives she took a cab home, her mind awash of thoughts and guilt. Yes, mostly guilt. Born rich. Born with a fucking silver spoon in my mouth.... and rammed up my ass. Forced to be stiff, to be fake. Smiling and nodding to these god-awful people. Nothing, but a fucking puppet. Controlled, helpless. But am I really? Could I rise up? Can I prevent all this? Can I save my children? Dear God, if let me do this one thing right!

She closed the front door softly. It was habit. In the study she poured herself a double martini and then went looking for her husband. How she hated him.

Lara found him in his office. He was sitting at his desk hands hidden beneath the desk and eyes fixed avidly on the screen of his computer. On her entrance he quickly moved his hands to the mouse and switched the screens. There was no guilt on his face she noticed, but why should there be? She didn't care if he wacked off to porn...kept him out of her bed.

"How was lunch?" he asked casually.

"Fucking dull."

"I wish you wouldn't swear so, it isn't becoming."

"Becoming to whom?" she demanded bitterly, then remembering why she had come quickly continued, "What is this I hear about cutting funding to the ward?"

"The ward?"

"Don't play dumb dear. What ward would I be asking about? The children for Christ's sake! I hear the board, of which you are a member, are slashing funding to it." Lara could feel tears burning behind her eyes, but would not let them fall.

"Ah yes, the children," He smiled, patronizing, the only smile he had. "Yes, the funds are needed for more worthy patients. Face it my dear, the "children" as you call them are really nothing more then vegetables. The current budget is inflated beyond what they need. They really aren't human and don't need so much. Just fertilizing and replanting occasionally, nothing like the funds we are currently giving them."

"How can you say that!”? Her voice was rising, even slurring, but with rage not drink. "Your own blood lies in that ward! Our child! Or have you forgotten that? How long has it been since you have even graced its doors with your shadow? Have you seen the way their eyes light up with music? The smiles when the clowns or dogs come to visit? The way they smile when their favourite nurses come? How can you condemn them to the basement with minimum care? It isn't human! It isn't right!" she was shouting now.

He smiled still and spoke softly as if pacifying a small and querulous child. "The money is better used elsewhere. Besides all those smiles and bright eyes you seem so fond of, its just gas dear. They aren't human really, brain dead vegetables are all they are and as such they shall be treated. That ward is need for more deserving patients."

"You mean better funded. My God! I hate doctors!" Lara said softly and walked out of the room. She didn't cry. She couldn't. It was too late for tears.

I won't let this happen. Not my children. Not my child. Not Aaron! I won't let you rot in that fucking basement! I won't!

She drank two more martinis before she fell asleep and all the while she thought and raged against the injustice. In the morning Lara committed to the idea that had been growing since yesterday.

She went straight to the hospital, straight to the ward that had been her second or maybe her first home since her son had been born 5 years ago. Aaron had severe developmental issues. He was practically brain dead and immobile, and yet, he was the most beautiful child she had ever seen. Dark curly hair and bright, if vacant brown eyes that followed her around the room. His body was twisted and sometimes he shivered and quivered as if racked by urges he didn't understand or couldn't express. He was one of 12 children in the ward. All of them severely handicapped both mentally and physically and Aaron and the other 11 children had become hers. She knew their records and their moods. She knew what music they responded to and what little things brought life to their eyes. She had seen all the little flickers that the doctors like her husband and even their parents so often missed. Lara had fought to keep the ward, a bright sunny section of the hospital that opened out onto the grounds and overlooked the river. She had fought to keep the musicians and educators and the visiting clowns, pets, and other entertainment to brighten the children's otherwise dull and rhythmic lives. All of this would be lost with the new plans. The basement ward was windowless and small. The slashed funding would only allow for the minimal nursing staff and no extras. It made her sick.

To her knowledge he had never visited Aaron since the day after he had been born and his defects were obvious. He had never blamed her with words, but the accusation had been clear in his eyes. He had wanted the tests done to make sure the fetus was healthy. Lara had refused. She didn't want to know. From the moment she knew she was pregnant she had loved the child and it never crossed her mind to temper her love by the health of the child. He had wanted a healthy baby boy and Lara always thought that he only had eyes for what the child could do for his reputation. She had begun to truly hate him not long after she found out she was pregnant. To him the child was a thing not a human. This hatred had crystalized after the birth of Aaron and his poor mangled body and mind. He had never troubled her bed again and she did not miss him.

Now he wanted to condemn their son and all the other children to a further hell then their minds and bodies had already condemned them and that she would not allow. Lara was no stranger to helplessness. It had been her constant companion. She was a woman. She was born wealthy. There were expectations. There were rules.

Fuck them all. This I cannot do.

When Lara finally went to the hospital she ran straight into Anna, the head nurse of the ward, the last person she wanted to see. They had an on and off affair going for four years. When Anna's husband was disappointing her she came to Lara for comfort and their meetings in the ward offices and non-descript hotels were fierce and passionate when they lasted, but her husband always came back and Anna would shrug and become frigid for a few months. Despite it all, she was the only soul who seemed to understand Lara's passionate love of the children in the ward, the only one who fought as strongly, who cared as deeply, and Lara loved her for this despite her fickle nature in bed.

Anna smiled shyly and her grey eyes showed the barely hidden lust and disappointment that always signaled the renewal of their affair. Lara couldn't help but smile back and as they passed in the hall their hands touched momentarily. On any other day they would have met later either in Anna's little, windowless office or the hotel down the street, but today Lara had other plans. A plan that mustn't involve Anna and for a second she felt a pang of regret at this loss of passion and lust if not love. She never was sure if what they had was love or lust born of their hatred of their husbands. She hoped it was love, why give their husbands even the satisfaction of their revenge?

On her way to the ward she made a quick stop at the pharmacy before continuing up to the ward. It was the only time of day when her plan would work. All of the children where in their beds and the staff was at its lightest before evening routines started. A burst of rage shook her again. They wanted her children’s ward for a special sports injury facility. The press conference was to be today. Announcing state of the art facilities to treat the best athletes as they deserved. It made her sick. She personally fundraised most of the funds for her kids and their extras, but sport stars would be better press for the small hospital and her husband’s ever expanding ego. She let the rage wash over her and stilled her trembling nerves before going into the first room on the ward. It was the boy’s room that had 9 beds the last of which was Aaron’s. He lay there supported by pillows asleep with small crusts around his lids.

Lara sat beside him and took his hand she shook slightly and tears sprung to her eyes. “My baby, my poor beautiful baby boy. Listen to Mommy. Mommy loves you very, very much my heart. But Mommy has to do what is best for you and I hope you understand.” Wiping away the tears she stood up, kissed his forehead.

Without pause she went down the row and visited every child. Some moaned softly, but most either slept on or regarding the world with confused or still eyes, for every one a kiss and murmured words of comfort. Then on to the girls’ room. In less then 15 minutes she was back in the elevator and heading up to the offices.

Her husband was getting ready for his press shot and glared as she entered. “I haven’t time for this Lara. We will speak at home.”

“Fuck that. We have time to talk now.” She locked the door and leaned against it. “You are a small arrogant man without talent or heart. A useless paper-pushing bureaucrat. A disgrace to the medical profession and to human kind in general. I. Hate. You.”

“Are you done? Go home Lara. You are embarrassing yourself.” He turned back to the mirror and adjusted his tie. She threw 5 empty vials at him. Several broke, but the others rolled about on the floor.

He picked one up. “Morphine? What have you done Lara?” His face went pale to her great satisfaction.

“Nothing. It was just gas dear.”

“What have you done?” He grabbed her and shook her fiercely, “What have you done Lara?”

The echo of the gun shook the hospital corridor and even before his white, shocked face hit the floor Lara could hear the approaching feet and commotion. She looked down the mouth of the revolver. “Mommy’s coming baby....”

#shortstory