music for the neck downwards

crying babies and green-eyed boys

Mary looked around warily, holding her boy tightly. She wasn't dumb, and was even experienced, so she knew all of the adults were in various highs. Obviously, she couldn't partake in this while pregnant, and even though she could now strangely she didn't feel much like it. Jerry hadn't yet, but she could tell he wanted to by the way his eyes watched whoever happened to take one, lips pressed together tightly as though holding in drool.

"I'm putting Buddy to bed. Can I get anyone anything?" She stood up, deciding not to hold Jerry back for her benefit any longer, brushing off her bottom from the wood log she was sitting on. Her legs already itched from the various mosquitoes that had found their way into her dress, and she'd be damned before the mosquitoes penetrated Buddy's baby skin. Nobody heard her, though; it was a group gathering, but everybody was off by themselves.

"Do you need any help, darling?" Jerry called, over his shoulder. He was still watching, even while Mary stepped away. She didn't bother to answer, and moved to their tent.

Buddy slept contently in the cot they had set up; Mary felt as though she had been blessed with a solid sleeper. Not feeling like going back out just yet, she traced the freckled marks of his cheeks. They would fade, as he grew older, but Mary did not know that yet and admired them while she could.

Feeling as though she was being watched, she glanced up to the tent's opening, where the tent cloth was clenched between two tiny fists. His big eyes, filled with curiosity, regarded Mary as though he expected to be in trouble for being caught creeping; Mary only greeted him with the grace of a mother, "What is your name, sweet one?"

"Silas." The small boy gulped. He didn't move from where he stood.

"Hi Silas, nice to meet you. My name's Mary, and this here is Buddy," Silas' eyes followed Mary's gesture as she pointed to the baby, and lingered, watching Buddy's hands grip his teddy and as he muttered baby nonsense, "How can we help you?"

Silas was still weary. He was small, and no adult had treated him as if he thought for himself. Nonetheless, his hold on the tent loosened a bit more, "I'm sorry for peeking. I just thought you were gonna read the baby a bedtime story, and I wanted to listen."

Mary's heart seemed to swell within her chest. Silas was hardly clothed appropriately now that the sun had set, and if on cue, he scratched at the various mosquito bites lining his arms. His hair, which fell to his shoulders, was knotted and tangled. "Where are your parents?" Mary asked, coming to take his hand. Shyly, he accepted it, and used the other to point towards the circle towards a certain busty blonde, tangled deep with another man.

Mary turned Silas away from the crowd, cheeks growing hot at their openness; she hoped Silas wouldn't understand, "Where's your Daddy?"

Silas shrugged, "We left him. Mommy says he's at war." Mary frowned, face-to-face with the issue their very lives were dedicated to fighting against. She decided not to pry, "How old are you, Silas?"

Silas perked up at the question, like most kids did, "Six!"

Mary did her best to hide her surprise as she led him into her tent; she remembered him now, as the green-eyed boy who had asked to hold Buddy, but in distraction, Mary had declined, thinking he was too little to hold a baby. Silas was much too small to be going into first grade, she thought, digging through bins with 'BUDDY' painted on the top surrounded by random psychedelic doodles. She pulled out a pair of car pyjamas her brother had given her at the baby shower; he knew nothing about babies, and had given her pyjamas fit for a four or five year old. Nonetheless, they came useful now, and Mary gave them to Silas, "How about a bath and new pyjamas, Silas?"

"Oh, wow! Thank you!" Silas took the pyjamas gratefully, and his dirt-filled fingernails admired the car pattern. As they walked towards the lake, hand-in-hand, he continued to point out and name the models of the cars by the glow of the lantern.

There was an innocence in the boy that was to be treasured. Mary wondered, as she watched Silas save a ladybug from drowning in the lake water, if Buddy would be this empathetic and well spoken at six. Instead, she thought of his mother, and wondered what she may think of a stranger watching her naked child bathe. She'd be thankful, Mary hoped. Clearly she didn't bother to bathe Silas herself.

Mary did all that her mother did to her; she scrubbed the dirt from Silas' fingernails, picked gently through each knot in his hair, and doused him in baby oil. Sleepy from the cold water, she wrapped him in a towel and carried him back to the tent, reading a book to Silas as if he was her own.

Over the next few days, she found an unlikely friend in Silas. Perhaps she gravitated towards the role of a mother wherever she went; her mother had been a primary teacher, and had once fostered a couple of needy children. Whatever the reason she was, she came to the conclusion that high and drunk people are not fun to be around unless you're one of them.

It started with a sniffle. As Mary carried Buddy around on her back, tending to the children and helping cook, his little nose grew pink and runny. Then, it was a raspy little cough. It accompanied all the light laughs Jerry could pull out of him. Next, it was a fever. Buddy's face grew red and his skin grew hot. Finally, it was the tears. And boy, could that kid scream! "Shut that baby up!" A voice erupted from a distant tent.

"Well, that's not very peace and love of you." Mary muttered to herself, inaudible over the screams and cries of the sick baby. She bounced him until her arms ached, and still it did nothing.

Jerry returned from his trek, offering up what he could. When he met her, first joining Mary in her travels, she had taught him a lot, and so now she watched and cradled and shushed Buddy as Jerry simmered the twigs of cedar until the water browned. Laying Buddy on the bed, he guessed what to do and rubbed it on his chest, as well as put some nasty drops on his tongue.

"What are you doing?" Mary hissed, feeling like snatching her boy away. The strange medicinal practices had eased his cries somewhat, but not nearly enough, "That's it! I'm taking Buddy to a doctor!"

Jerry was bewildered, "What? Why? But that's the government.. Everything we've worked against!"

Mary groaned in annoyance, "Jerry, we're not fighting just to fight! We're fighting what's wrong with the world, and what's wrong is our baby is sick, and rubbing leaves can't help this time! Rejecting modern conveniences is not always bad!" Jerry did not know what to respond with; she was right, she was always blindingly smart, but he was not ready to admit it yet.

Exasperated, Mary grabbed her suitcase. It had stayed packed since they had arrived; nothing had felt quite right, and she didn't feel like putting in her roots, which proved useful now, "I will return of course, but me and Buddy will get a hotel and see a doctor, then come back. There's a phone booth in town, be there two days from now at one. I'll let you know the address."

Jerry was speechless, and watched her go, unsure of what to do. To stop a woman like that would be impossible. Instead, he stood and watched the car pulling away, noticing a little green-eyed boy wave with all his might.