Nameless

By Amethyst Turner

A name should be 

A work of art

A little piece

Of love for us

Bestowed by our parents

But it is apparent

That obviously

They never loved me

XXX

Libby never called the baby by it's name. She hardly even called it 'she'.

Richard, however, said it's name every chance he had. "Morning," he'd mumble to Libby, and, "Morning, Aimee," to the baby. That was his nickname for her. Aimee.

As the days went on, she took the baby out of the drawer less and less. After two and a half months, she stopped rocking it in the morning and kept the drawer closed for longer and longer every day.

The baby's screams became weaker as the weeks went on. Libby stopped responding to them altogether. Around three months, it stopped almost completely. The baby only cried when it needed to be changed or when she shut the drawer.

Richard had left mail on the table last night. She was avoiding the stack, the bills, the magazines, the coupons to places she couldn't go.

A purple envelope jumped out at Libby from the heap. Seeing that it was addressed to her, she picked it up to read the return address. 112 Hollands Lane. Vita and Mike Williams. She slit the envelope open with her thumb, wondering what her parents could possibly want with her.

Midway through the seal, Libby changed her mind and set the letter back on the table.

XXX

"Are we sending Amethyst to Virginia, then?" Richard asked that night, seemingly out of nowhere.

Libby raised her eyebrows in the dark. "Um...why?"

"Didn't you read your parent's letter?"

"No."

"Well they offered to take her for the summer."

It was hard to believe that July was already upon them. The days were getting longer and longer, while the heat rose and rose. Libby didn't much care for the summer, the damp bed she shared with her sweaty husband much less.

Richard made it clear that he didn't love Libby, but sometimes he would come home drunk and delirious from the severe heat, eager to see her. Those were the only times when he kissed her and usually the only nights they had sex.

She had no control over him when he was drunk, so she let him do whatever he wanted to with her.

"So are you gonna send her?" he asked.

"I guess so, if they're willing..."

"Kay, just call them tomorrow."

"Can you do it?"

Richard turned on his side, away from Libby. "They're not my fucking parents."

"Fine," she sighed. "I'll do it."

XXX

She watched the volkswagen rumble off without feeling a thing. "Any rules I should know?" her mother had asked her. Libby had nothing to say.

Richard was out already, so she reentered the empty house. She felt a chill run down her spine. For the past five months, the baby had always been there with her, breathing, cooing, crying. Now that it was gone, its absence seemed to leave a vacuum in the house that was filled with irrational fear and anxiety.

When Richard returned that night, she was downstairs waiting for him. Libby hoped that once he came back, her stomach would settle back again, but when the door slammed shut, she just felt more nauseous because she could already smell the liquor on his breath.

XXX

Libby woke up with a dire need to use the bathroom. She started to sit up, but almost immediately noticed the scratchy texture of her discount cotton sheets on her bare chest. After this, she felt the weight of Richard's arm around her torso, tethering her to the bed.

Not daring to wake him, Libby stayed in bed, biting her lip. The clock on her bedstand read 3:34. By now, the baby would be crying in Virginia.

Every morning for the remainder of July, Libby woke up a minute later. 3:35, the clock read. 3:36. 3:37. Until one morning, it was the clock in front of her when she woke, but rather, Richard's face, asking where the fuck his breakfast was. 5:02.

It was Thursday, something that was only significant to Libby because it was the day her mom had been calling her the past few weeks, mostly to update her on the baby. Partially to tell her about all the amazing things her brothers and cousins were doing.

These calls put her on edge, not because she was jealous of her family members or concerned for the baby's well being -- more because she was afraid her mother would figure it out.

She knew what her mom would say. That's no way to raise a child. That daughter of yours is going to be a psychopath, Elizabeth, you're raising a retard.

Proper children were breastfed. They had cribs, not drawers. Their parents were very much in love and raised it together.

"She's so small for five months," was what she said that day. "And you should really start her on solids. When you were five months, you were eating cheerios! And gabbing away, you did. She doesn't talk, dear. You and your brothers, you would talk an ear off at that age..."

And Libby just listened, waiting for her mother to cap all these statements with a general status update on Amethyst and a little tid bit about her brother's prodigy children, and an "Alright, see you in August, Sweet."

Come August, Libby asked if Amethyst could stay with them another month. The baby's grandmother was delighted.

Richard couldn't have cared less. At one point, he even suggested they let Libby's parents keep her.

Libby herself was almost tempted to agree.

XXX

When the baby did come home, Libby felt even more detached from the thing. Her mother had dressed it up in a yellow sundress with a matching headband over her wispy, cornsilk-colored hair. That baby and her blue eyes and blond hair. She was Richard, not Libby.

"She's just the sweetest child," her mother babbled. "And that smile. Ah! Gorgeous. She's on solids now, by the way. Cheerios, Gerber food, applesauce. I swear, Elizabeth, there is no food in your house! What do you eat?" Without giving her a chance to answer, she continued, "I think you need some fresh fruit, don't you? You're looking a bit ashen. A Nice pear should perk you right up! I'm going to run to the grocery store, it's just down the road, isn't it? You'll be okay with the baby while I'm gone?" She asked as if she'd forgotten the baby actually belonged to Libby and was not her own. "Back in two hoots!"

By the end of "two hoots", her mother was back with not only a pear but three bags of produce, cheeses and semi-solids for the baby.

"Mom," Libby protested. "We really don't need--"

"Sure you do."

And sure she did. Libby didn't have a car, hadn't driven since the baby was born. Richard did the grocery shopping, and heaven knew the man wasn't fit for the task. He came home carrying bags with crushed eggs and dented loaves of bread on the bottom, beer bottles settled on top.

"My, my. No one gave you a bread box at the wedding? I'll have to get you one, perhaps for Christmas. Did you have a baby shower? Even if you don't want one, I could still organize a little something, great way to get diapers at the very least. You know, the new thing is cloth diapers. I think that's disgusting, but to each their own, I suppose. You don't use cloth diapers, do you? I haven't been. Todd bought one of those four packs of Huggies diapers. That lasted around two weeks." She paused to chuckle and continued. Libby tuned out.

It took her mother all of ten minutes to run out of things to say. It took Libby all of two to realize the woman had stopped talking and was now staring at her intently. She looked back at her mother, frowning. "What?"

"You're so grown up now," her mother gushed, offering a smile that was dragged down in the corners by the sight of her daughter. "I never could have imagined that things would turn out this way." She glanced around for Amethyst. Upon realizing the baby was no longer in the carrier she'd brought back from Virginia, her face contorted into a concerned gawk. "Where's the baby?!"

Libby sighed. "In the living room. Sleeping."

"Oh, good." She placed a hand over heart heart, exhaling deeply.

"Well, it's been nice to see you . . ."

Vita stared at her daughter. "Am I being dismissed?"

She sighed again, standing to escort her mother out. "You're not being dismissed, mom. I just have some things to do, and I'm sure you want to be back in Virginia before it gets dark."

After several more minutes of squabbling, Mrs. Williams gave in. She tried to hug Libby, but she sort of shrugged her away subconsciously before even thinking about hugging her back.

XXX

I used to think you could save me

I've been wandering lately

Heard she's having your baby

And everything's so amazing

It goes on and on and on and on

It goes on and on and on and on

But she's not me, she's easy

-She's Not Me, Jenny Lewis