The City of Mirrors

The hours moved by. Sara visited at regular intervals, taking Pim’s pulse, touching her belly here and there, reporting that all was well, things were moving normally. Of War and Peace, she only remarked, eyebrows raised, “Good luck.”

Others came by: Lore and Rand, Jenny and Hannah, as well as several people Pim had befriended on the ship. In midafternoon, Hollis brought Theo and the girls. The boy could have cared less, sitting on the ground beside his mother and attempting to fill his mouth with sand, but for the girls, the birth of a cousin—not just one but, magically, a pair of them—was a long-anticipated excitement, like a present waiting to be unwrapped. During their weeks on the ship with little to amuse them, Elle’s signing had improved. No longer was she limited to the most elementary phrases. With Pim she chattered away, oblivious to the woman’s discomfort, though Pim didn’t seem to mind or, if she did, managed not to show it.

“All right,” Hollis said finally, clapping his hands together, “your aunt needs her rest. Let’s go look for shells, shall we?”

The girls complained, but off they went, Theo riding his grandfather’s hip. Pim’s eyes followed them. She looks so much like Kate, she signed.

Which one?

She paused. Both of them.

The afternoon faded. Caleb had become aware of a certain energy being directed at the tent from multiple directions. Word had gone around: a baby was being born. Eventually Pim told him to stop reading. Let’s save the rest for later, she said, by which she meant: nothing besides having these babies is going to happen for a while. The contractions intensified, long and deep. Caleb called for Sara. A quick exam, then she looked at him pointedly.

“Go wash your hands. We’ll need a couple of clean towels, too.”

Jenny had heated a pot of water. Caleb did as Sara instructed and returned to the tent. Pim had begun to make a great deal of noise. The sounds she made were different than other people’s. There was something more raw about them, almost animalistic. Sara hiked up Pim’s skirt and laid one of the towels beneath her pelvis.

Ready to push?

Pim nodded.

“Caleb, sit next to her. I need you to translate what I say.”

The next contraction seized her. Pim clamped her eyes tight, raising her knees and bending her chin to her chest.

“That’s the way,” Sara said. “Keep going.”

Another few seconds, torturous to Caleb, and then Pim relaxed, gasping for breath, her head falling back onto the sand. Caleb hoped for some respite, but virtually no time passed before the next contraction. The long, listless afternoon had become a battle. Caleb took one of her hands and began to write in her palm. I love you. You can do this.

“Here we go,” said Sara.

Pim coiled and bore down. Sara had placed her hands beneath Pim’s pelvis with her palms open, as if to catch a ball. A dark, round cap of hair appeared, slithered back inside, then emerged once more. Pim was puffing rapidly through pursed lips.

“One more time,” Sara said.

Caleb signed the words, though Pim took no notice. It hardly mattered; her body was in control now—she was merely following its commands. She gripped Caleb’s arm for balance, rose up, and buried her fingers into his flesh as every part of her compressed.

The head appeared again, and then the shoulders; with a slippery sound the baby slid free, into Sara’s hands. A girl. The baby was a girl. Sara passed her to Jenny, who was kneeling beside her. Jenny quickly snipped the cord and balanced the baby along her forearm; cupping the baby’s face with her palm, she began to rub her tiny, blue-skinned back with a tender, circular motion. The air of the shelter had a smoky smell, as well as a note of something sweet, almost floral.

The baby made a small, wet sound, like a sneeze.

“Piece of cake,” Jenny said with a smile.

“We’re not done here, Caleb,” Sara said. “The next one’s yours.”

“You’re kidding.”

“You have to earn your keep around this place. Just follow Jenny’s lead.”

Pim rocked forward again. Her last push seemed less effortful; the path had been cleared. A single sustained straining and the second child arrived.

A boy.

Sara passed him to Caleb. The cord, a glistening rope of veins, was still attached. The boy was warm against Caleb’s skin, his color dull, almost gray. He placed his son along his arm as Jenny had done and began to rub. The lightness of his body was stupendous; how astounding that a person could grow from this small thing, that not just people but every living creature upon the earth had begun this way. Caleb felt swept into a miracle. Something soft and wet filled his palm; the baby’s chest expanded with a gulp of air.