By R.J. Tennyson
“He’s such a gift,” the woman said, staring at the blue cocooned bundle lying in the polished wooden crib. “Yeah… he is,” her husband replied, draping his left arm across his wife’s shoulders, drawing her into him. She rested her head on his shoulder.
David crept silently to the doorway to watch them. That’s my crib, he thought, it’s mine. His tiny eyes took in every movement his parents made, his tiny ears every sound. Why is that baby in my crib? In a temper, David kicked at the jack-in-the-box sitting on the bedroom floor; the one his parents had given him for his last birthday. Its latch clicked and the red, white and blue clown sprang up, breaking the silence in the room. His parents spun around in unison. Ignoring David as though he wasn’t there, they looked at the toy and then turned back to the sleeping baby.
“He really is precious, isn’t he?” the man smiled.
“Yes, the most precious little thing,” she replied, her voice cracking as she held back a river of tears.
“YOU USED TO SAY I WAS PRECIOUS,” David yelled. “You used to say those things about me when I was little!”
David’s yelling caused the baby to stir. This time his parents didn’t turn around. They just stood staring at the baby, for what to David seemed like a thousand heartbeats. Lub-dub, lub-dub, lub-dub. David’s mother walked over to the toy-box in the corner of the room. Placing her hand inside, she drew out an old worn blue elephant.
Bernard! Oh, I’ve missed you so much, thought David.
The woman handed the old worn blue elephant to her husband. He closed his eyes, held the elephant to his nose and inhaled its scent.
“Daddy, what’s wrong? What are you doing with Bernard? Daddy…” David murmured to himself, confused.
The man kissed the old worn blue elephant and placed it in the crib.
Oh, Bernard’s the baby’s now. His tiny face crumbled and his tiny heart broke. I guess that’s okay. I don’t need him. I’m a big boy now, he thought, fighting back tears.
“He’s 5-days-old and still has no name,” the man said. “We can’t just call him ‘Baby’ forever,” he laughed, taking his wife’s hand and squeezing it.
“What do you think?” she asked, “What do you think we should call him?”
“Well I was just thinking how much he looks like David…”
He looks like me?
Really?
The baby?
He looks like me?
“How about Aaron David then?” she suggested.
They’re going to name him David, just like me!
“Perfect,” the man replied.
David began to smile. At that moment he knew everything was going to be okay. He walked around the crib to face his parents.
“I love you, but it’s time for me to leave now,” David whispered, as his voice gently moved the curtains for the last time; and he disappeared.
R.J. Tennyson - Writer 