15...

She wanted to scream and hit something and have someone hear her. She wanted to take those

papers and shove them out the window, trample them in mud.

“Mom...Dad…” She leaned forward, surprised when her hand passed right through the table. She

caught herself just in time and made a swipe for the stack of papers. They were as insubstantial as air to

her.

“This is real. This is real,” she whispered in a mantra as she began stalking around the room. It

meant something that she could touch the table. It meant the rules weren’t concrete. All she needed was

something that she could hold in her hands and she’d get their attention. Oh yes, she would. She would...

Pima pressed a hand over her eyes. She was swaying on her feet, but for some reason she couldn’t

recall, she knew that reaching out for a chair to steady herself would be a bad idea. Where was she? What

was she doing here? Who...who were these people?

She’d known the answers a moment ago.

The man and woman were arguing.

“Tell me what would make you happy,” the woman said.

“Maybe...maybe if you advanced the date a year or two. That would fix the ionization ratings

here,” the man replied.

The woman seemed to consider it, but then she waved her hand. “No, I can’t do that. That won’t

work.” And then she demanded again, “Tell me what would make you happy?”

Back and forth, while the little boy sat in the corner and stared at his paper with a bored

expression. He lifted his eyes from the page and paused. He tilted his head, staring at her from the corner

of his eye.

“Can you see me?”

He looked down quickly, eyes wide. Pima stepped forward eagerly.

“You see me. I know you do. I’m talking to you. Can you hear me?”

He frowned and looked up again, and this time she followed his gaze a little to her right. He was

staring at her shadow, which the sunlight that filtered into the room through the windows cast across the

floor. Pima sighed and sank onto the seat beside him. “I thought I had something there. Can’t see how this

helps me though.”

She leaned back as another wave of dizziness crashed over her consciousness. When it passed, she

peered over his shoulder at his drawing.

“Oh!”

She remembered the picture. It was the exact match of the folded picture she had carried around

in her pocket since she was a little girl. That one had been folded and refolded so many times, there was a

tiny hole in the center. This one was unmarred, beautiful.

“Oh, Akish…”

She traced the edge of the paper with her index finger and started. “Ow!” A dot of red had

appeared on her finger. “Paper cut,” she said, lifting her finger to her mouth. She paused, staring at it.

“Paper cut!”

“Ahhh! Jaru!”

Pima stood and whirled around to face her mother, who was bent nearly in double, clutching herbelly.

“Jaru!”

“Amoli? Is it the baby?”

“Yes!” she wailed, swatting at his arm. “What else could it be? Really?!” She pulled away and

waddled out of the room.

“Alright. Alright. I’ll call the midwife,” Jaru said. He started to follow her, and then stopped and

looked back at Akish.

The little boy bounced happily on the window seat. “The baby is coming! She must know I

finished her picture. See, Dad! I finished it! It’s our family!”

Jaru gave him a tired smile. “That’s wonderful, Akish. I’m sure she’ll love it. Now, I have to tend

to your mother. The baby...it could take a while. You’re a big boy. Can I trust you to entertain yourself for

a few hours? Maybe we can order something special for dinner to celebrate.”

“Pizza?” Akish asked, bouncing up and down again.

“Perfect! I’ll check in on you in an hour. Don’t get into any trouble now.” He held his finger up to

his nose and winked.

“Yes, sir.”

Once Dad was gone, Akish grabbed his picture and hopped up. He smoothed it out and folded it

twice, taking care to crease it just so, and then he walked over to a box labeled “for our baby girl” and laid

it on top of a pink blanket.

Akish rubbed a corner of the blanket. “I can’t wait to meet you.”

A yelp of pain echoed down the hall. Akish sucked in a breath and slapped his hands over his ears.

“Please hurry,” Pima heard him say, and then he raced out of the room. Pima hoped that he was heading

someplace far away from those screams.

She took the drawing out of the box and unfolded it. A cartoon sun smiled back at her. Beneath it,

there was the green field with red flowers and a bright blue lake with crooked yellow waves. And standing

in the middle of the field stood the smiling family that Akish had drawn, all holding hands: Mom, Dad,

Akish, and her.

“Sorry,” she whispered. She had to be quick. She flipped it over. What should she say? Only one

thing came to mind. Stealing herself, she slipped her knife out of its holder and ran her finger quickly over

the blade’s edge along the paper cut. Three drops of blood fell in quick succession onto the paper. She

hurried over to the table and pressed her finger down on the page.

F I N D

N E E M A N

Her hand was shaking by the time she finished her message in a bottle. It was slightly smeared

and still wet when she folded the paper back up and placed it in the box, but she had to have hope that it

would work.

It pained her, but she took the much-loved drawing out of her pocket and ripped a corner off.

Using her left hand now, she wrote the message that she prayed would change everything.