babies doing here?—”
I place the little guy in my arms back into his feather cradle bed. He’s sucking on his thumb. I pick up another newborn. She has a pink ribbon in her fuzzy hair.
That’s when it comes to me.
“Oh, no—” I say, and plant a kiss on the top of the baby girls head. She smells of talcum powder and baby lotion. “Are these all the little ones who’ve been born and died?”
“No,” Pete says, much to my relief.
“These are the ones created, but never born at all,” Pete says. His eyes are sadder than I’ve ever seen them.
“You mean these babies—”
“These babies have all been aborted,” Pete says.
“But, there are thousands—” my voice trails off and my eyes fill with more tears than they can hold.
“Yes, Lorlelei,” Pete says. “And sadly, there will be many more.”
He places one arm around my shoulder and gathers Miss Lilly with the other.
“ This is the Nursery of Lost Kisses and Hugs.”
TWENTY-SIX
The Porthole of Truth
We spend hours in the nursery and have the best time. But something’s bothering me. I decide the only answer is to investigate The Porthole of Truth. Pete says it’s to be only used for important things. I tell him it’s urgent. My father’s carrying on with the attorney that has my kidney. I need to see if he plans to leave my mother!
“I can’t possibly move on until I find out,” I say.
“Yes, I see that,” Pete says, his fluffy hair puffed out like a cotton halo around his head. “You must be careful,” he cautions. “Through the Porthole of Truth we are able to see into another one’s heart. You may not always find what you expect.”
Pete goes off to welcome a new arrival.
I’m relieved he has warned me that I may not always find what I expect. I’m expecting my father to divorce my mother and marry the attorney. Nothing would make me happier than to find out that I’m wrong.
You may remember The Porthole of Truth is an opening with a beam of light so bright it dazzles. I approach it carefully. There is a luminous slate on a silver platform beside it. It looks like a fancy etch-a-sketch! I pick up the wand attached to the slate and print out my father’s name. Instantly I am catapulted into his thoughts. It’s the most amazing thing.
Of course, I’m hoping my father’s thoughts are completely different than what I’m expecting.
TWENTY-SEVEN
The Golden Window
I DON’T WANT TO EVEN THINK ABOUT WHAT MY FATHER IS THINKING ABOUT!
It’s perfectly disgusting.
I’m back in the Golden Window and wish The Porthole of Truth would take it’s secrets and disappear forever. Forever!! But instantly I take it back. What if I want to take another peak? Like, I’ve always wanted to know whether my mother truly loved me or if she thought I was a nuisance—and Onetta, who I’ve loved since before I can remember, I want to see if her heart’s as happy as it always was.
For now I’ll put The Porthole of Truth on hold. Maybe Miss Lily will have some insight into the situation concerning my father and his thoughts. She was married to her husband for a ga-zillion years. There’s probably nothing she hasn’t heard. And her husband never made it here, he’s BELOW, so he must have been pretty bad. I’m sure he’s done things far worse than my father. I’ll bet Miss Lily has some juicy stories to tell.
Right now I’m peaking in on Garrett, the boy with the pimples and my liver. He’s doing really good. It completely takes my mind off my father. Garrett’s tall and thin and he doesn’t have any muscles that I can see, so that’s a disappointment. He’s riding the bus home from school and it’s like a war zone. The bus driver acts like he’s deaf. A guy the size of Bluto is picking on some poor kid whose ears stick out like airplane wings. Once he’s off the bus, Bluto grabs hold of one and tries to twist it off! The poor little boy is crying and there’s snot running out of his nose.
I place the little guy in my arms back into his feather cradle bed. He’s sucking on his thumb. I pick up another newborn. She has a pink ribbon in her fuzzy hair.
That’s when it comes to me.
“Oh, no—” I say, and plant a kiss on the top of the baby girls head. She smells of talcum powder and baby lotion. “Are these all the little ones who’ve been born and died?”
“No,” Pete says, much to my relief.
“These are the ones created, but never born at all,” Pete says. His eyes are sadder than I’ve ever seen them.
“You mean these babies—”
“These babies have all been aborted,” Pete says.
“But, there are thousands—” my voice trails off and my eyes fill with more tears than they can hold.
“Yes, Lorlelei,” Pete says. “And sadly, there will be many more.”
He places one arm around my shoulder and gathers Miss Lilly with the other.
“ This is the Nursery of Lost Kisses and Hugs.”
TWENTY-SIX
The Porthole of Truth
We spend hours in the nursery and have the best time. But something’s bothering me. I decide the only answer is to investigate The Porthole of Truth. Pete says it’s to be only used for important things. I tell him it’s urgent. My father’s carrying on with the attorney that has my kidney. I need to see if he plans to leave my mother!
“I can’t possibly move on until I find out,” I say.
“Yes, I see that,” Pete says, his fluffy hair puffed out like a cotton halo around his head. “You must be careful,” he cautions. “Through the Porthole of Truth we are able to see into another one’s heart. You may not always find what you expect.”
Pete goes off to welcome a new arrival.
I’m relieved he has warned me that I may not always find what I expect. I’m expecting my father to divorce my mother and marry the attorney. Nothing would make me happier than to find out that I’m wrong.
You may remember The Porthole of Truth is an opening with a beam of light so bright it dazzles. I approach it carefully. There is a luminous slate on a silver platform beside it. It looks like a fancy etch-a-sketch! I pick up the wand attached to the slate and print out my father’s name. Instantly I am catapulted into his thoughts. It’s the most amazing thing.
Of course, I’m hoping my father’s thoughts are completely different than what I’m expecting.
TWENTY-SEVEN
The Golden Window
I DON’T WANT TO EVEN THINK ABOUT WHAT MY FATHER IS THINKING ABOUT!
It’s perfectly disgusting.
I’m back in the Golden Window and wish The Porthole of Truth would take it’s secrets and disappear forever. Forever!! But instantly I take it back. What if I want to take another peak? Like, I’ve always wanted to know whether my mother truly loved me or if she thought I was a nuisance—and Onetta, who I’ve loved since before I can remember, I want to see if her heart’s as happy as it always was.
For now I’ll put The Porthole of Truth on hold. Maybe Miss Lily will have some insight into the situation concerning my father and his thoughts. She was married to her husband for a ga-zillion years. There’s probably nothing she hasn’t heard. And her husband never made it here, he’s BELOW, so he must have been pretty bad. I’m sure he’s done things far worse than my father. I’ll bet Miss Lily has some juicy stories to tell.
Right now I’m peaking in on Garrett, the boy with the pimples and my liver. He’s doing really good. It completely takes my mind off my father. Garrett’s tall and thin and he doesn’t have any muscles that I can see, so that’s a disappointment. He’s riding the bus home from school and it’s like a war zone. The bus driver acts like he’s deaf. A guy the size of Bluto is picking on some poor kid whose ears stick out like airplane wings. Once he’s off the bus, Bluto grabs hold of one and tries to twist it off! The poor little boy is crying and there’s snot running out of his nose.
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