Plague of Pythons by Frederik Pohl (best beach reads of all time TXT) 📕

‘Yes. But how does it feel? What did you feel when you first held him in your arms?’

Right now, Rachel is starting to feel dizzy. The brick pillar has split into two, the sides moving in and crossing over like a Venn diagram. She focuses instead on Suzie, at a tiny white scar just below her left eyebrow. Something in Suzie’s earnest, searching gaze makes her want to speak honestly, to reach for something true. Or maybe it is the vodka.

‘It was a shock,’ she says. ‘I had a shock, the night Ivan was born.’ She bends her neck and brushes her lips against Ivan’s downy head. ‘It wasn’t the pain, or the mess, or caring about what Lucas might think, seeing me that way. The shock came afterwards, when I’d stopped shaking and the stitches were in and the blood was washed off.’ Rachel pauses. She remembers the bright light above her head; the midwife lifting her feet out of the stirrups and pressing down on her uterus to expel the afterbirth. ‘Lucas had gone home to our flat, and the ward was as quiet as it was going to get and the lights had been dimmed and the nurse had finished her checks or obs or whatever they call them. Ivan looked so peaceful in his cot beside my bed, and I didn’t love him yet, but the antenatal classes had been very reassuring about all of that and I suppose I felt happy and proud and ready to learn. There was just one more thing to do before I could sleep and that was to go and brush my teeth.’

Suzie nods, as though all of this is as she expected.

‘And you got up and went to the bathroom?’

Rachel thinks back, trying and trying to catch hold of what it was she had done.

‘No. I pulled my gown around me, and checked that I wasn’t – you know – leaking, then swung my legs over the side of the bed. I felt a bit wobbly, I suppose, but I decided I’d be all right. Then, just as I stood up, Ivan made a squeaking sound and moved his head so that his nose was pressed against the mattress. I didn’t know how to turn him over without hurting him, so I picked him up and held him across my stomach, which felt all spongy and strange. The nurses were busy at their station, you see, and I didn’t think I could walk without dropping him so I leaned there against the bed, until my arms were stiff and aching. Tears were falling down my cheeks and on to Ivan’s head and I remember they pooled in that little hollow that new babies have – where their skulls haven’t fused.’

She stops, the sickly scent of baby powder and her own sweat returning, washed up on a tide of fear.

‘And?’ presses Suzie.

‘Then a midwife came by. I think she took the baby. She kept asking me what I was trying to do.’

‘What did you tell her?’

Rachel falters again; she tries to pin down the formless things that waver in her mind’s eye.

‘I don’t know. I . . . I didn’t know.’

She raises her head and sees that Vee and Lucas and Rob are listening. Lucas is looking down, tracing the curve of a plate very slowly with his finger. Rob has his hand under the table. The little green Lacoste crocodile on the front of his shirt inches back and forth as he kneads his wife’s thigh.

‘Excuse me,’ murmurs Rachel, standing up. She hands Ivan to Lucas, who, she knows, longs for her to tell a funny story like everyone else, something that might make her seem a little kooky and unpredictable and desirable and so explain her presence here, with him, in this restaurant, in this city. ‘I just . . .’ She searches for the words that keep floating out of her reach. ‘I’ll be back in a minute.’ With her shawl pulled tight across her chest, she weaves her way between the tables and chairs towards the bathroom. A man in a dark suit sits at a table in her path. He has to uncross his legs to let her through, and as she passes he turns his head with a small frown that might express concern or irritation. Rachel assumes it is the latter. She pushes her way into the cubicle and locks the flimsy door.

Ten minutes later, after her racing heartbeat has slowed and she has dried her tears on a sheet of grey toilet paper, she returns to the restaurant. The man in the suit has gone and Lucas is jiggling Ivan ineffectually against his shoulder. She slides back into her seat beside her husband. Vee is saying something to Suzie and Rob, more vodka has been poured and there is a stiffness now, a new wariness around the table.

‘. . . It pays quite well,’ finishes Vee. ‘So, how about it?’

Rob’s head is moving up and down in a series of tiny nods, as if he’s thinking about what Vee has just said. ‘Thanks, but Suzie doesn’t need a job,’ he replies, carefully.

Vee raises an eyebrow. ‘It’s only three days’ work.’

Now Rob exhales. ‘Hair, nails, all that stuff – they’re full time, aren’t they baby?’ He takes his wife’s hand in his own and rests it between her legs.

Vee blows cigarette smoke over her shoulder. ‘And how is that for you, Suzie?’ she asks. Her voice sounds cool, neutral. She picks an invisible speck off her lip.

‘Oh, this takes work,’ says Suzie, pulling her hand away from Rob and holding it up to reveal her immaculately manicured nails. ‘I do my aerobics for ninety minutes a day. Besides, I’m still sourcing things for the apartment. I’m not looking for a job.’

Lucas shifts in his seat. Ivan starts to grizzle: warning signs. Rachel takes the baby from him, hoping someone has asked for the bill, but Rob, it seems, still has things he wants to say.

‘My wife,’ he says, raising