Wine slops onto the tablecloth, a consequence of nervousness, not drunkenness. Olivia watches her mother dab at red bleeding into white cloth. She notes fine lines creeping around her eyes. The face a mirror of her own, except where her mother allows age to show. Olivia reaches out, interrupts the birdlike tapping at the table.
“Ma, what’s up?”
Susan blushes under her daughter’s scrutiny. A foolish thing, she thinks, to be shy at her age, especially foolish to be timid of one whose bottom she had attended. Olivia’s fingers still rest on her hand. Susan summons strength.
“I… I know you and Nancy want a baby. I know you’re on the wait list.”
Susan stares at the wet wine stain, feels air sucked from the room. She ventures a glance at her daughter, braces for impact before continuing.
“I think it’s time. I want to…”
Olivia withdraws her hand, pinches her bottom lip bright red. Her head shakes, a small tic she can’t control.
“No, mom,” she says, but can find no words to follow.
Susan fills her voice with the certainty of motherhood. “It’s time. I just want the birth on my birthday.” She swallows the pain when Olivia nods.
—
Olivia becomes haggard under the weight of pregnancy, but her eyes sparkle. Never having known sickness, she relies on her wife and mother. Nine months pass with a barely a breath, the birthdays come quick.
—
Banners wishing happy birthday to Susan, and placards pronouncing welcome to the baby decorate the home. Guests mingle in the main room; a new birth is a big day. They keep eye to screen, waiting news.
A room off to the side, decorated by solemn standards, holds a smaller crowd. A nurse busies herself checking tools laid out beside twin beds. Scalpels, syringes, and computers.
On the first bed lies Olivia, curtain hiding protruding belly. She keeps one hand tight in her wife’s grip. Susan watches nervously, keeping close in the second bed. The doctor, young appearing, despite confidence, gives words of encouragement. He works methodically, slicing through flesh to retrieve new life. The baby slides through open wound, is placed on a warming table where the nurse waits. She presses a large needle into the babe’s leg, releases plunger.
The doctor taps at the computer. First, he reactivates nanobots in Olivia’s weary body. Tiny machines whir to life after nine months dormant, allowing child to grow. Awakened, they repair incisions like magic, fix damages done. The vulnerable time is over, and strength returns.
Nanobots stream into the baby. The child gives a lusty cry and the room sighs. Olivia, health returned, takes her daughter into her arms. Tears hot on cheeks, she brings baby to show her mother. Susan can’t feel her nanobots accomplishing their final grim task inside her. She sees only grandchild. There is no pain as Susan becomes still.
In the other room, guests see the population counter climb one. No one moves until it drops to regulation number again.
Oh this is heartbreaking 💔! Poor Olivia!!! 🫣🫣
Wow.
I had to read this a second time to be sure I had it right.
What a gift. What a sacrifice. What a world Susan and Olivia inhabited.
My heart breaks for Olivia as she raises her child knowing the cost (but also without the joy and benefit of her mother there to guide her).