Free Mazie Baby by Julie Frayn Page B

Then he broke out in a loud laugh.
    It had been a long, hard day. And
one of the best in their marriage.
    Two hours later, there was Ariel, squirming
atop Mazie’s stomach, still tethered to her mother by the umbilical cord.
    Cullen ran his thumb over their
baby’s head, gross and sticky with placental fluid, blood, and white chunks
like so much spilled cottage cheese. He rested his chin on the edge of the bed
and stroked Ariel’s hair, stared at her eyes, not yet open, not yet aware of
her parents’ faces.
    And he cried. Not sad or angry or
resentful tears. Just streams of water dripping down his cheeks. Like he was
being cleansed from the inside out.
    The doctor handed him scissors and
held the umbilical cord.
    Cullen hesitated. He looked so
helpless and afraid. “Will it hurt her?”
    The doctor smiled. “No, neither of
them will feel any pain.”
    Cullen kissed Mazie’s knuckles,
then hacked through the tough cord tissue until mother and daughter were no
longer one.
    For months he was happy. And mostly
sober. He smelled of soap and freshly brushed teeth. Of cologne and promise and
hope. He bounced out of bed to pick up the baby when she cried in the night. He
stared at mother and daughter during feedings, desperate to be part of a
bonding that no man could ever experience. Ever understand. He changed diapers
and fetched fresh onesies.
    Was it true change? Were they going
to be all right?
    Whoever said bringing a child into
a bad marriage would not fix it was wrong. Ariel had been their saving grace.
    ~~~~~~~~
    Mazie blinked against the pain in
her head and the blinding light of the hundred-watt bulb above. She lay on the
floor gasping for air, her hair and clothes soaked with dishwater. Drops of
blood dotted the linoleum where broken glass cut into her skin.
    Cullen squatted in front of her and
pushed wet hair from in front of her eyes. “Clean this up.”
    The stench of whiskey and
cigarettes turned her stomach.
    He stood, grabbed the bottle of
bourbon by its neck, and sat in his chair in the living room.
    Her entire body quaked. She gripped
a chair and dragged herself to her feet. The blood rushed from her head, her
feet numbed and she sat in the chair and put her head between her bloody knees.
    She turned to glare at the monster
she’d married.
    He sat in his recliner, remote in
hand, flipping through television channels like nothing had happened.
    Nothing.
    Ariel’s laughter came through the
window. Mazie stood and gripped the counter’s edge. The setting sun caught the
steel of the chef’s knife and shined a glint of light in her eyes. She stared
at the blade, then gazed out the window at her smiling daughter.
    ~~~~~~~~
     Cullen remained silent the rest of
the day. Mazie kept Ariel busy in the kitchen, baked cookies and talked about
the trip to visit grandma. Anything to prevent her from being alone with her
father.
    Cullen went to bed early, his
drowsiness fuelled by half a bottle of Jack. He slept soundly, no remorse for
his actions to keep him awake, no guilt for the harm he had done, the threats
to his child. His snores reverberated in the bedroom.
    The street light danced shadows of
the thirty-foot poplar across the bedroom walls. Her eyes flitted along with
the quaking leaves until the trunk loomed closer and pinned her to the bed. She
shook her head and sat up, her throat tight.
    The money would have to be enough. The
time was now. Before it was too late. Before he ruined Ariel. More than he
already had.
    Mazie glanced at the clock radio.
Two thirty-eight. She slid from beneath the sheets and tiptoed to Ariel’s room
and lay on the floor in front of her bed. Mazie closed her eyes, and listened
to her daughter breathe.
    A thud shook Mazie from a shallow
sleep. She sneaked back into her bedroom and glanced at the alarm clock. Five
fifty-six. She pulled the drape aside and peered out in time to see the paper
boy toss an elastic-bound newspaper at Rachel’s house. Mazie slipped back into
bed, turned