Guys And Dolls

I’m sure anyone old enough to remember the birth of a sibling, holds it close to their heart. Once the screaming has subsided and the child is wiped of all placental unpleasantness, it is one of the most amazing experiences for a young child.

In my case, the day of my sister’s birth could not come fast enough. I was seven at the time, and the prospect of inheriting a baby sister was simply too overwhelming. I had already planned a ‘my first wardrobe’ for her and had drawn up a rough outline of what her room should look like. Mum insisted on an aqua theme, but I assured her this child would not accept anything other than hot pink, or a variation of that color. ‘I can compromise,’ I told her.

I didn’t sleep well, my diet went to shit and seeing my Mothers stomach rapidly balloon was extremely concerning. She noticed my sudden onset of anxiety, and to my surprise promised me a special something on the day of my sister’s birth if I behaved and stopped being so dramatic. I didn’t know exactly what she meant by dramatic, but it is a word that has been used to describe me many times since then.

Even at that age, being bribed was too tempting to pass up. I assured her I would be on my best behavior, and even went so far as to brush and style her hair, even without being asked. I was nice like that. It wasn’t long after the day finally arrived. The situation in the car on the way to the hospital was a sight to behold. My Mother, being unsuccessfully calmed by her Mother, looked as though she was filming the sequel to Alien. I would have added a number, but I lost count after ‘Aliens’. In between screaming obscenities that I never knew existed, she would as calmly as possible tell me everything was alright and that she was not giving birth to the antichrist.

I wanted to offer her a moist towel and possibly a foot massage, but I could see the time for that had passed. ‘Ashley,’ My Nanny panted. ‘Open the door on Mum’s side.’ We had arrived at the hospital and minutes later we had Mum sedated and in her hospital gown. I always wondered why hospitals referred to it as a ‘gown’. Sure, it could have passed for one at the Brownlow’s, but I wouldn’t call something that resembled an anorexic ghost, a ‘gown’. I smiled lovingly at my panting Mother, trying in vain to cover up her hoo-ha and other unmentionables. After some time the doctor motioned for me and my Mums friend to wait outside as she began writhing and grunting once more. I made a mental note to have her checked for rabies post pregnancy.

‘Are you excited, Ash?’ Lene asked me, rubbing her face where a pregnant woman’s wayward hand had connected moments prior. ‘Your own little sister!’ I knew she expected me to be overjoyed. I was, of course. But I kept my cool. ‘Well, I suppose a girl will be o-kay. ‘I replied as blasé as possible. ‘We’ll need to go over a few things of course-’ I held up my fingers ‘-making sure there is equal alone time with Mum, what clothes are off limits for borrowing…that kind of stuff.’

‘I’m getting water,’ she said after a minute of silence. ‘Want one?’ I shook my head and she wandered off down the sterile hospital hallway. I remember suddenly the promise my Mum had made of a special something for all my help. This made the wait even longer as I pondered what I could be. Just as I began dreaming about the possibility of a Fisher Price Kitchen – the one with an actual rotating microwave – the doctor shuffled into the hall and beckoned for me to enter.

My Mum looked worse than ever. I was however pleased to see her stomach had for the most part returned to its normal size. I didn’t know how much longer I could defend her weight issue to my friends at school. Before I could linger anymore of her current physical shortcomings, I noticed a small bundle of blanket in her arms. I peered over her shoulder and was met with the small, yawning face of my new baby sister, a.k.a test pilot. She was cuter than most babies I had seen, whether this was because she shared my baby faced looks (I had been frequently told I looked no older than five) or because she was already starting to grow on me, I couldn’t be sure.

‘What’s her name?’ I asked Mum. This was the one thing I left up to her to decide.

‘Tayla,’ she said, smiling as she spoke the name. ‘Tayla Jay’.

‘That is a good name,’ I complimented. Mum looked up at me.

‘I haven’t forgotten about the present I promised you,’ she announced as my eyes lit up. She reached over to the night stand and handed me a bundle – just like the one that contained my sister.

‘Oh. My. God.’ I spoke. ‘TWINS?!’ She and everyone else in the room laughed.

‘No silly. Go ahead and open it.’ I breathed a sigh of internal relief; I had not planned for twins, although I had touched upon it briefly in my notes. I unwrapped the layers of hospital cloth and nearly collapsed. Staring back at me was the most beautiful thing I had seen since seeing The Wizard of Oz for the first time. It was an Aladdin doll.

I could now die happy.