Blueprint
by Leah Browning
Once, there were two sisters. The older one was about to turn thirty, and after some soul-searching and a long phone conversation with her best friend, she had a couple of drinks and started an eHarmony profile.
Within a year, she had met a lawyer, gotten engaged, and bought a house. They went to the local branch of the Humane Society and adopted a friendly little poodle mix. They bought invitations and made lists. She sat across from her new fiancé at a small round table covered with a white lace tablecloth and tasted eight different types of cake and watched him lick the back of a fork and thought how lucky she was.
After the wedding, her younger sister decided to jump into her future as well. She was sick of going to parties and being the only single person there. On her profile, she got right to the point. It took a few months, but she met a handsome lawyer of her own and hastily married him. She wanted a dog, too, but her new husband was allergic.
Both sisters worked for a firm downtown, one in the accounting department and the other in marketing. The older sister was already pregnant by that time, and her coworkers threw her a baby shower and invited everyone on the floor. She had a baby girl and named her Ruby May after their grandmothers.
Before the older sister’s maternity leave was over, the younger sister was also pregnant. She had to take a leave of absence after her doctor put her on bed rest. She lay in bed and watched game shows and MTV and studied her stretch marks. Her ankles were so swollen she couldn’t see the little bones on the sides of them. She looked up the name of the bone she couldn’t see. (“I’ve lost my lateral malleolus,” she told her husband when he got home from work, but he just said, “Huh,” and loosened his tie on the way through to the master bathroom.)
The younger sister had her baby, also a girl, and named her Ruby May, after their grandmothers.
The older sister got pregnant again. Another girl. This one she named Lucinda Jane, after the dolls in Beatrix Potter’s book.
The younger sister named her second girl Lucinda Jean.
The older sister quit her job so she could stay home and take care of her girls.
The younger sister quit her job so she could stay home and take care of her girls. Everything was going well until the younger sister got pregnant again. Her Lucinda was only nine months old. She was going to have three babies in diapers. She wanted to bake a cake and serve it to her husband with the positive pregnancy test stabbed into the side of his slice so that he would hit it with his fork. Or maybe he should bite into the foil packet of an unused condom.
But then one of the babies she already had started crying and she forgot about baking a cake, and she just ended up telling her husband about the pregnancy. No drama, no tricks. He wasn’t happy about it, but what could they do? She was already starting to show.
At the park, her older girl lost interest in the slides and ran toward a dog in the parking lot. The younger sister had barely managed to haul herself to her feet before another mother was sprinting after Ruby.
The younger sister held her arms out for the girl. “Thank you,” she said. She didn’t know what else to say. The other mother was wearing yoga pants and a tiny pink T-shirt. She was barely breathing hard. She returned to her bench and took out a container of hulled strawberries for her child, who was right out of an Abercrombie & Fitch ad. If the kid had been taller, he could have been twenty-five. The younger sister sat with Ruby in her lap and watched the little boy eat strawberries. The elastic waistband of her maternity pants had been washed and dried so many times it no longer lay flat, and her bra was held together with a safety pin.
Again, she ended up on bed rest. She wanted to call her sister to complain. Since she’d had Lucinda Jean, it seemed like the older sister rarely picked up when she called, but maybe it was just because she was so busy with her own little family. It was the beginning of summer. The younger sister’s husband scheduled some interviews and hired a cute college student to watch the girls while his wife lay marooned on the island of their bed.
Once, when she was feeling particularly low, the college student bounced into her room in a pair of tight jean cut-offs to ask if she wanted some soup. There was a can in the pantry if she wanted it microwaved before they went out for the afternoon.
Her due date came and went. The doctor scheduled a Cesarean. She went into labor the night before she was supposed to be at the hospital and ended up having an emergency C-section. Wasn’t it lucky, her husband said, that Kirsten was living with them now? She had been right down the hall when they needed her.
The baby was born, a boy. The younger sister was almost too groggy to look at him. It took a long time for the anesthesia to wear off.
She stayed in the hospital with the new baby for four days. Her mother brought flowers, and her husband brought the little girls. No one else came to visit.
A nurse brought in a stack of paperwork. “Do you have a name yet?” she asked.
The younger sister shook her head.
“Let me know when you’re ready,” the nurse said. She left the forms for the new baby’s birth certificate and social security number on the little table next to the bed along with a miniature container of vanilla pudding and a plastic spoon.
The younger sister was propped up in bed in a hospital gown. Her abdomen ached where she had been stitched back together after the surgery. Her husband had already taken Ruby and Lucinda home for the night. The nameless baby was asleep in his bassinet.
Next to the paperwork was a black ballpoint pen with the name of the hospital stamped onto it. Again and again, she turned over the forms, looking blankly at the empty lines, as if, on one of the turns, the answers might somehow appear.
Within a year, she had met a lawyer, gotten engaged, and bought a house. They went to the local branch of the Humane Society and adopted a friendly little poodle mix. They bought invitations and made lists. She sat across from her new fiancé at a small round table covered with a white lace tablecloth and tasted eight different types of cake and watched him lick the back of a fork and thought how lucky she was.
After the wedding, her younger sister decided to jump into her future as well. She was sick of going to parties and being the only single person there. On her profile, she got right to the point. It took a few months, but she met a handsome lawyer of her own and hastily married him. She wanted a dog, too, but her new husband was allergic.
Both sisters worked for a firm downtown, one in the accounting department and the other in marketing. The older sister was already pregnant by that time, and her coworkers threw her a baby shower and invited everyone on the floor. She had a baby girl and named her Ruby May after their grandmothers.
Before the older sister’s maternity leave was over, the younger sister was also pregnant. She had to take a leave of absence after her doctor put her on bed rest. She lay in bed and watched game shows and MTV and studied her stretch marks. Her ankles were so swollen she couldn’t see the little bones on the sides of them. She looked up the name of the bone she couldn’t see. (“I’ve lost my lateral malleolus,” she told her husband when he got home from work, but he just said, “Huh,” and loosened his tie on the way through to the master bathroom.)
The younger sister had her baby, also a girl, and named her Ruby May, after their grandmothers.
The older sister got pregnant again. Another girl. This one she named Lucinda Jane, after the dolls in Beatrix Potter’s book.
The younger sister named her second girl Lucinda Jean.
The older sister quit her job so she could stay home and take care of her girls.
The younger sister quit her job so she could stay home and take care of her girls. Everything was going well until the younger sister got pregnant again. Her Lucinda was only nine months old. She was going to have three babies in diapers. She wanted to bake a cake and serve it to her husband with the positive pregnancy test stabbed into the side of his slice so that he would hit it with his fork. Or maybe he should bite into the foil packet of an unused condom.
But then one of the babies she already had started crying and she forgot about baking a cake, and she just ended up telling her husband about the pregnancy. No drama, no tricks. He wasn’t happy about it, but what could they do? She was already starting to show.
At the park, her older girl lost interest in the slides and ran toward a dog in the parking lot. The younger sister had barely managed to haul herself to her feet before another mother was sprinting after Ruby.
The younger sister held her arms out for the girl. “Thank you,” she said. She didn’t know what else to say. The other mother was wearing yoga pants and a tiny pink T-shirt. She was barely breathing hard. She returned to her bench and took out a container of hulled strawberries for her child, who was right out of an Abercrombie & Fitch ad. If the kid had been taller, he could have been twenty-five. The younger sister sat with Ruby in her lap and watched the little boy eat strawberries. The elastic waistband of her maternity pants had been washed and dried so many times it no longer lay flat, and her bra was held together with a safety pin.
Again, she ended up on bed rest. She wanted to call her sister to complain. Since she’d had Lucinda Jean, it seemed like the older sister rarely picked up when she called, but maybe it was just because she was so busy with her own little family. It was the beginning of summer. The younger sister’s husband scheduled some interviews and hired a cute college student to watch the girls while his wife lay marooned on the island of their bed.
Once, when she was feeling particularly low, the college student bounced into her room in a pair of tight jean cut-offs to ask if she wanted some soup. There was a can in the pantry if she wanted it microwaved before they went out for the afternoon.
Her due date came and went. The doctor scheduled a Cesarean. She went into labor the night before she was supposed to be at the hospital and ended up having an emergency C-section. Wasn’t it lucky, her husband said, that Kirsten was living with them now? She had been right down the hall when they needed her.
The baby was born, a boy. The younger sister was almost too groggy to look at him. It took a long time for the anesthesia to wear off.
She stayed in the hospital with the new baby for four days. Her mother brought flowers, and her husband brought the little girls. No one else came to visit.
A nurse brought in a stack of paperwork. “Do you have a name yet?” she asked.
The younger sister shook her head.
“Let me know when you’re ready,” the nurse said. She left the forms for the new baby’s birth certificate and social security number on the little table next to the bed along with a miniature container of vanilla pudding and a plastic spoon.
The younger sister was propped up in bed in a hospital gown. Her abdomen ached where she had been stitched back together after the surgery. Her husband had already taken Ruby and Lucinda home for the night. The nameless baby was asleep in his bassinet.
Next to the paperwork was a black ballpoint pen with the name of the hospital stamped onto it. Again and again, she turned over the forms, looking blankly at the empty lines, as if, on one of the turns, the answers might somehow appear.
Leah Browning is the author of Two Good Ears and Loud Snow, flash fiction mini-books published by Silent Station Press, and When the Sun Comes Out After Three Days of Rain, a collection of poetry from Kelsay Books. Her work has appeared in Four Way Review, Valparaiso Fiction Review, The Threepenny Review, Watershed Review, Newfound, Waypoints, Chagrin River Review, and elsewhere. Browning’s first full-length collection of stories, The Costume Wedding, is forthcoming from Betty Books, an imprint of WTAW Press.