A no-name, no-beauty strange girl-child in my care. I am watching over her, in line with the other girls: a row of pale wraith-like things in bright red flowing robes. Almost as if chosen for their seamless indistinguishable characteristics, slowly they filed one by one up the ramp and onto the ship.

Me, below, watching. My girl collapses quietly, without show, barely interrupting the measured movements about her. Me, below, hysterical. That is my ghost and she's having her baby.

The quiet assembled crowd disperses without once looking at the woman on the floor. Someone delivers the child easily and without fuss; hands the tiny squalling thing over to me.

All I can find for this baby is a rough towel, nowhere near enough warmth, and the shipyard is a silent theater. Everyone watches the procession of pale girls file onto the ship; Me, below, breathless with a sudden child in my care.


Just so you might know. Just in case you might want this baby that nobody else wanted. Just so you might know what it felt like to be holding an unwanted baby. It was tragic. Such a tragic. drea.m.