NoHo Noir Short Fiction: 'Maternal Instinct'

If I don’t get back to work soon, Ethan thought, I’m going to go crazy.

“Yes I am,” he said to the baby in the back seat, making the declaration a kind of Seussian sing-song.

“Yes I am. I am going to go crazy.” The baby gurgled in response, as agreeable as a barfly with a few drinks in him. Nat was a mellow baby, that’s just how he rolled.

He was already sleeping through the night, which made Jill the envy of everybody in her mommy circle.

Except Jill wasn’t sleeping. She spent her nights holding vigil next to the crib, studying his sweet sleeping face as if only her attention could keep him from harm.

She barely ate, and had become alarmingly gaunt. Ethan was worried about her and he wasn’t the only one.

One of their neighbors, the lady from 204, had taken to dropping by with Tupperware containers filled with chili and lasagna and chicken stew. “It’s just me and Lon,” she said, “so I always have extras.” Ethan took the offerings gratefully. The neighbor lady was a good cook and he was living on frozen pizzas and microwave dinners. Jill never ate a bite.

At first he thought it was his confession that had made her so anxious and unhappy but he soon realized that he wasn’t a factor at all. In fact, she seemed relieved to have the matter out in the open. At times, he got the distinct impression that she’d known he was gay all along and had just picked him out as a sperm donor.

Still, he was grateful she hadn’t asked him to move out because he didn’t have the money to put down for a first and last. He’d expected her to lash out at him, but she hadn’t. Getting mad would have taken too much energy and she didn’t seem to have energy for anything. Not even for the baby.

She’d been moody during the pregnancy but it was nothing like this. She cried over everything but what really set her off was the breast feeding. She’d been looking forward to it.

“It’s going to be such a natural high,” she’d said, and then told him about the endorphins and the extra-special bonding that would occur. The experience so far hadn’t lived up to her expectations. She was stressed out instead of blissed out, her nipples cracked and sore, her breasts so swollen they looked like they’d been grafted on to her slender frame.

Her mother kept telling Ethan Jill was just going through normal “baby blues” but nothing seemed normal about it. He’d been reading up on postpartum depression and what he read scared him. He wasn’t sure he wanted to leave her alone with the baby too much.

When she asked him to go to the store, he’d leaped at the chance to get out of the house. With Nathaniel in tow, he’d hit CVS and the car wash and now he was getting some gas before heading to the grocery store.

With any luck, Jill would be taking a nap by the time they got back.

Vardan’s Unocal

Magnolia Boulevard

North Hollywood, CA 91601

2:12 p.m.

Oh for God’s sake, Ethan thought as the driver in the rental car in front of him stopped midway between the two pumps, blocking his access to the gas. He honked the horn as the driver got out and she gave him a startled look but couldn’t seem to process that the noise had something to do with her. She swiped her credit card, punched in the gallons and inserted the hose. When it was clear that she wasn’t going to move until she was done, Ethan heaved a sigh and got out of the car.

“I’ll be right back buddy,” he said to the baby in the back seat. Nathaniel smiled and burbled a reply.

“What’s that? Pick you up a sixer and some Slim Jims? You got it.” The baby waved his tiny fist. “And a pack of smokes? You dawg.”

Ethan was smiling as he walked toward the station with his cash in hand, his annoyance at the stupid woman driver forgotten.

The wrongness hit him like a slap as he entered the store.

He stopped dead, taking in the situation in visual bits, like a camera firing off stills.

The big Armenian guy who owned the place was planted face down on the floor, blood spilling everywhere.

Two younger guys stood over him, both holding weapons.

They must have surprised him as he came out of the crapper, Ethan thought as his hand instinctively went to the fanny pack where he carried his off-duty gun, a Ruger SP101. One of the guys standing over the dead gas station owner saw the movement, turned and fired.

Ethan’s thigh exploded.

Jesus.

He went down with his gun in his hand as the two men trampled over him on their way out the door. They weren’t interested in him, Ethan realized.

This isn’t a robbery, Ethan thought. This is an execution.

Despite the godawful pain, Ethan managed to get off a shot, winging the closest of the gunmen, the one who’d shot him.

The other gunman shot back at Ethan as he dragged his friend into their getaway car, which was already moving.

There are three of them, Ethan thought just as all hell broke loose.

The gunman’s shot went wild, ricocheting off the metal awning over the pumps and hitting Jill’s car square in the gas tank.

It was a one in a million shot.

Jill’s car exploded into flames.

Jesus no.

“Help,” he screamed. “Somebody help.”

Unable to stand, Ethan began crawling.

The woman from the rental car was already in motion.

He saw her reach through the flames to open the back door.

He saw her bend to tug at the car seat.

Please. Please. Please.

The last thing he saw before he passed out was the woman cradling the baby to her breast. Thank God.

***

Ethan came to in the ambulance with an oxygen mask over his face and two paramedics tending to him.

“My son?” he asked anxiously, his question muffled by the mask.

“Just take it easy,” one of the paramedics said. “You’ve been shot.”

Ethan tried to pull the mask off but was too weak. He blacked out again.

Valley Presbyterian Hospital

15107 Vanowen Street

Van Nuys, CA 91405

4:12 p.m.

Ethan woke in the hospital to find Jill standing by his bed.

There was a light right behind her that gave her a halo.

He reached out for her.

“Ethan,” she asked, much too calmly, “where’s the baby?”