Hester's Child

She barely made it to the toilet in time. Hester complained about her grumbling stomach and about the girl who’d held up the restroom for so long. Another minute, and there would have been a mess on the floor outside the restroom door, not to mention inside Hester’s drawers That would have been undignified. Even as she relieved herself of whatever she’d eaten that had upset her bowels, she was going over the faults of the generation that young girl belonged to. Holding up bathrooms when other people were having digestive problems was fault number one on the list.

As she reached for the toilet paper, her gaze happened to settle on the trash can. Right on top was the empty box and instructions for a pregnancy test. Was that why the girl had taken so long? Hester harrumphed and looked in the can a little more closely. There was no sign of the test itself. She thought back to her quick view of the girl once she’d finally gotten out of the restroom. Young. A teenage slut, no doubt. Well the little whore’s behavior had caught up with her. No one would take the test with them if it was negative, Hester knew. The girl must have been pregnant. Served her right for sleeping around. Hester silently hoped this would ruin the girl’s life.

Finished with her wiping, Hester flushed the mess away and washed her hands. Undignified such a restroom episode may be, but at least it had gotten rid of that sickening greenish-brown rumble in her stomach. Amazing what a good shit could do. She washed her hands again– that was another thing the younger generation didn’t do was keep clean– and her thoughts went again to the pregnancy test box. It wasn’t fair. All these clueless teenagers were getting knocked up left and right without trying, while she– a well-to-do, educated, perfect candidate for motherhood– had failed for years and wound up needing a hysterectomy because of an issue with her uterus. No hope. It was so unfair.

She’d dreamed of her children, more than once. Perfect, well-behaved little ladies and gentlemen, they were smart, polite, respectful, quiet, breathtakingly beautiful... All the magazines and books she’d read on parenting told her she would be the perfect mother. No chance her daughter would end up a teenage whore. It was unthinkable. Not only would her genes not have allowed such a thing to come to pass, but more importantly, Hester’s natural mothering ability would ensure her children were flawless in their actions and thoughts. If she could only have had that child herself... even some other child with bad genes she was sure she could set straight.

The store was busy and crowded when she left the restroom. More than one child whined or threw a temper tantrum over something wanted or despised. Hmph. Hester’s children would know better than that, too. She strode purposefully toward the exit, passing people and shopping carts ,thinking about her children and how perfect they would be and how people would comment on their behavior and be jealous. They’d ask her advice and all she would tell them is it was natural for her children to be so perfect since they had such a perfect mother.

On her way out, she reached a hand out and picked up an item, tucking it quickly under her arm. Nestled in the folds of her girth, no one would be able to see it as she left. Everything was so overpriced these days, it was robbery– like Hell she’d pay for what she took. She was the victim here. If the price were fair, she would pay it. But for this, she’d already paid more than a fair price. This was owed her. No one would miss it anyway.

She made it outside before it began to make noise. Hester jostled it a bit to shut it up. Later, if it wasn’t ruined already, it would know better than to cry like that. As she began strolling down the street, ultimately heading for her apartment building, she pulled the baby out from under her arm and looked at it. Not bad-looking, but its face was deep red from crying. She shook it again and told it to stop it. If it always acted like this, it definitely wouldn’t bee missed by whatever unworthy woman she’d taken it from.

Well, Hester knew she could set the little beast straight. Not its fault the stupid cow that had birthed it didn’t know how to make it behave. She’d have her perfect baby within a week. She could fix it. In fact, come the weekend, it would already be the perfect little lady or gentleman– whatever the baby was– it was supposed to be.

There was a huge commotion being made behind her, back at the store. Something about a robber, or something being stolen. Hester shook her head at the still-wailing baby in her arms. Shaking it again to quiet it, she mumbled about the faults of everyone these days. Robbers, inconsiderate teenage sluts, overpriced stores... her baby would know better than to be involved in anything like that. Much better.

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Hester's Child was written as a response story to a friend of mine's story, Leaves and Ashes, which you can find here. http://werdswurdswords.wordpress.com/2011/06/01/