The Boy in the Gray Hoodie

21...

            James nodded, a sigh of relief escaping him. He hadn’t realized he’d been worried until that moment. Just as Marley had said, there were other fetuses. There were other hosts. This one shouldn’t have mattered. But it did.

            “She’s not my wife,” he found himself saying the words without meaning to. They could think she was his wife. It didn’t really matter. And yet, somehow it did.

            Dr. Peterson raised his eyebrows. “Oh. I’m sorry. What is your relationship with Ms. Graham?” he acted surprised, as if the difference of surnames hadn’t already tipped him off.

            “She’s my sister.” James lied.

            Dr. Peterson nodded. “Sorry.” he said, smiling as he patted James’ shoulder. “Congratulations. You’re an uncle.”

            “When can I see her?” James asked, ignoring the man’s well-wishes.

            “It will be a couple of hours before the anesthesia wears off. But you can see the baby,” Dr. Peterson offered. “They should be taking him to the nursery right now.”

            James nodded and followed the man behind a set of double doors and down several long hallways. The infant nursery was on the other side of the ward from the delivery rooms, so that the sound of the babies crying wouldn’t keep the mothers from resting. They walked for about five minutes before Dr. Peterson turned a corner and a large window came into view.

            James approached the glass, coming to stand beside Dr. Peterson. Marley came up behind them both. She’d followed them there, seemingly unnoticed by the medical professional.

            “There he is,” Dr. Peterson pointed to a small infant-sized bed close to the window.

James followed the man’s finger and caught sight of a tiny body swaddled in a blue blanket. He sucked in a quick breath. There it was. The child they had waited nine months for. A small patch of dark hair curled at the top of his forehead, his tiny eyes wide open as they stared up at James. His eyes were blue, just like his mother’s.

“Beautiful kid,” Dr. Peterson said, nodding his head. “Real smart, too. Look at those eyes. I call them soul-pluckers.”

“Soul-pluckers?” Marley repeated incredulously.

Dr. Peterson’s head hadn’t stopped bobbing. “Yep. They pluck at your soul. Like they know what’s going on. Like they understand.”

“Nonsense. Infants can’t even control depth perception until months after they’re born.” Marley countered, shaking her head.

“And you are?” Dr. Peterson raised his eyebrow as he asked the question.

“I’m his sister,” she responded, jerking her thumb at James.

“Right.” Dr. Peterson said dryly, completely unconvinced.

James chuckled. “She inherited the Italian genes.” He stated. Marley’s darker skin and curly hair didn’t resemble James’ pale skin tone or straight locks in the least. But it was a lie that went unchallenged.

“Alrighty then,” Dr. Peterson said, rubbing his palms together. “Well, I’ll leave you two to admire nature’s handiwork while I go make my rounds. See y’all in a bit.” He walked off whistling a James Taylor song, his sneakers squeaking against the tile floors.

“He does look intelligent.” James mentioned, his eyes trained on the infant.

“Of course he does. We engineered him that way.” Marley stated. “When will we take him back to the lab?”