Stranger by David Bergen

robe. She felt a little pain, but she could walk without difficulty. In the hallway, it was hushed. Still early. The baldosas weresmooth and cool on her feet as she moved through the corridor to the nursery.
    There was no one on duty.
    The nursery was dark and empty.
    She stood in the dimness.
    She had many thoughts, and some of the thoughts were panicky, but she did not allow the bad thoughts to stay with her. There would be a practical explanation. The baby was being admired by the keepers who had just arrived. The baby was being held because it was fussy. She left the nursery and returned to her room. It was empty. The garden beyond the window was bluish grey in the new light. A hummingbird floated above a bird of paradise. She saw the bird and she saw the flower and she thought that everything must be normal. It was good.
    She dressed, and even as she dressed she was aware that she was doing something wrong. She put on her underwear and she slipped her dress over her head and as it fell to her knees she felt the lightness of the material against her skin. Everything was exaggerated. The silence of the room, the fall of the cloth over her head, the whisper of her feet going into her sandals, her thin and quick breathing. She tried to remember the nurse. A silver bracelet on her left wrist. Voice low. Soft and convincing. Just a quick bath. She shook her head now and felt her throat close. All this wasted movement. But she thought that if she was dressed and prepared for her baby, then she would be shown the place where the baby lay, and she would pick the baby up and everything would be normal. There was an explanation.
    Her hands were shaking, and she heard someone whimpering, and she knew that the noise was coming from her own mouth. She stepped out into the hallway. A keeper passed by. Have you seen my baby? she asked. The keeper looked at her and shook her head, and then walked on. She moved in the opposite direction of the keeper, towards the entrance of the clinic. There were tall flowering plants in large clay pots standing sentinel beside the main doors, and though she had seen these plants and clay pots many times before, she had never noticed their elegance and their colour and their size. Like guardians flanking the entrance. A nurse was sitting at the main desk. She told the nurse that she was looking for her baby. It was with me last night, and then a woman came, a nurse, and she took it, and she didn’t bring it back. She was speaking Spanish but the nurse didn’t understand, so she said in English, My baby. It’s gone.
    The nurse stood and came around the desk and asked her name. She had a Dutch accent.
    Ãso . It’s Íso.
    And the baby’s name? the nurse asked.
    No name. Not yet.
    The nurse guided her to a cane chair and told her to sit. She went back to the desk and picked up the phone. Íso watched her. She saw her speaking but she could not hear the words. The nurse hung up and came back towards Íso, holding a glass of water.
    Ãso took it and drank. Is it coming? she asked.
    The nurse said that the director would come soon.
    No, Íso said. Not the director. My baby.
    The nurse held her hand. She must have thought Íso was crazy, because she stroked Íso’s head and said that everything would be fine. Don’t worry, she said. You’re upset.
    The director did not come. Íso waited, and the longer she waited the more aware she became of the tall plants in the clay pots, and she imagined that the plants were growing right before her eyes. The nurse was sitting again behind the front desk.
    She said to the nurse, It’s gone. My baby.
    That’s ridiculous, the nurse said. Babies don’t just walk away. Is it a girl?
    Ãso nodded.
    She’s here somewhere, the nurse said and smiled, and Íso smiled back, because what else was she to do. She didn’t want to be ridiculous.
    Her hands were shaking. Her legs. And still she sat, not moving. Which