the first part of a short story I wrote for a character developement project for my creative writing class. I'm pretty proud of this actually.
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Part I of The Lyric Trilogy
Crimson and Clover
Ah, now I don’t hardly know her
But I think I could love her
Crimson and clover
– by T. James and P. Lucia
If you had told me a year ago I would be a mother now, I would have laughed in your face. Well, that was a year ago and I am a mother now, though I have to remind myself, and that little ball of flesh wrapped in the blue blanket is my little girl. Mine. All mine and she is beautiful; more beautiful than I ever could have imagined. Watching her sleep from my vantage point atop this flimsy cushion in the maternity ward makes me smile and I think I could love her. Even after all the hurt and pain I have endured in having her, my heart blossoms with the love I have, and she is only two days old.
I think I will name her Jezebel, it suits her well. Jezebel, my little Jezebel. It’s a name of a character in some poem I read long ago, the poem has since faded and is of no importance now, but the name still means something to me. It’s filled with connotations of mystery and obscurity, just like the bundle herself. My mother would have me name her something along the lines of Elizabeth or Sarah, something plain and seeming unoriginal like that. But I am not my mother.
Tomorrow I get to take her home, and we’ll begin our life together, though I am still not sure how we’ll make it. I am an unwed, an only seventeen and her father is nowhere to be found, but that’s not a surprise. It was one-night stand, though I don’t remember any of it, and he never showed his face again. Not that I’m complaining, it’s just that I would like to know at least who he is.
Baby Jezebel reaches out one pink hand in her sleep and another smile flits across my face. I think I could love her, and I am so glad she’s here.
“Aimee, what do you mean you don’t know the father of this baby?”
“I mean what I said: I don’t know the father.”
“Well then, you’ll have to get rid of it.”
My mother’s words ring in my ear still, and looking at my daughter now I know I made the right choice. With her big blue eyes, that precious smile, her little fingers and this wondrous feeling that makes my heart want to burst, how could I have ever considered not having her?
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