Long Story Short by Elyse Friedman

Author:Elyse Friedman
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: FIC029000
Publisher: House of Anansi Press Inc.
Published: 2008-09-08T00:00:00+00:00

Part Two: The Stories

THE SOOTHER

IRMA UNFASTENED THE plastic clip on her nursing bra and brought a hard brown nipple to Lucas’s mouth. He latched on and sucked greedily. She watched his hands curl into fists. “There,” she said, “there there . . .” Irma rubbed the centre of his back with a soft circular motion. She stroked his forehead and the wisps of fine hair around his ears. He gurgled with contentment. “You’re a hungry boy, aren’t you? Yes, you are.”

The windup mobile turned slowly above their heads. Lucas focused dreamily on the blue geese as they orbited the smiling plastic sun. Music played — tinkling, halting — like Satie on toy piano. His eyes closed all the way. “Shhh,” Irma whispered. “Shhhh.”

She fed him for the usual twenty minutes, burped him and checked his diaper. “Ooh, somebody needs a change, don’t they? Yes, they do!” She moistened a soother in her mouth, then slipped the plastic nubbin to Lucas. She opened his diaper, lifted the legs as best she could, and slid it out from under him. It was dry. “Did mugwamps go pee-pee?” She blew a raspberry into the folds of flesh where double chin met neck. Lucas shrieked with pleasure, kicked his fat legs in the air. “Okay, enough of that.” She maneuvered him onto his belly, smoothed ointment on his bottom, and dusted it with talcum powder. Then she rolled him back onto a clean nappy and did it up nice and snug.

“So, my darling, what will it be? Funny Bunny or Oodles of Poodles? Let’s see . . . how about poodles today?” Irma opened the book and began to read. “Oodles of poodles in puddles of noodles.” She turned the thick cardboard page. “Lambs pushing prams full of apples and yams.” She read the remaining eight pages, then closed the book. She checked her watch. It was seven minutes to one. “Okay,” she said, standing up, “that’s all for today, sweet-cheeks.” She kissed his tummy and slipped out of the room.

Lucas sighed. His hour with Irma was the fastest in the week. He lay there for a full minute before sitting up to remove his diaper, which he used to swab the powder and ointment off his buttocks. He lifted the lid on the tickle trunk, retrieved shoes, socks, watch, pinky ring, and his carefully laid-out suit. He dressed quickly, then picked up one of the small white envelopes that said “To:” and “From:” on it. To: Irma, he wrote, From: Baby Luke. He put two hundred-dollar bills into the envelope and popped it through the slot on the wooden lockbox. He exited through the back door. Irma had things set up nicely. Very private.

He was all the way at the bottom of the rear stairwell before he realized he still had the binky in his mouth. “Shit,” he said, pulling it out. He looked up at the stairs. Most likely it would just be Irma in there, cleaning up, preparing for the next client.

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