Joes North by NorthWest
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Legends of the Fall

North by Northwest

Our warning came when the baby’s face turned beet red.

We stood Amelia up in her blue whale baby bath, the familiar rinsing position before wrapping her in a towel and beginning the bedtime ritual: new diaper, pajamas, two stories and lights out. The whale came with a fist-size, open-mouth plastic orange whale with holes in the bottom, the better to rinse you with, my dear, and a blue rubber floating hippopotamus . The hippo has a summer sky blue body and a winter pale blue face. Beady little black eyes and nostrils. Small hippo ears and feet and a curly bas-relief tail. A wide smile. A Made in China tattoo under its chin.

And that night, Amelia changed the hippo’s name forever. 

 

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... makes three

North by Northwest     It was late on a June afternoon, the sun shining through my apartment’s front windows, heating up my hotbox one-bedroom. The phone rang.
     “Mmmyellow.”
     “Hey,” she said.
     A little more than a week before then, we had said goodbye, Miss L for a new job five states away, me for an unexpectedly unemployed summer that I figured to spend drinking and sleeping late and plotting the next stage of my life – or just being lazy until forced to get off my ass before I starved to death.
     “Hey,” I said. “What’s up?”
     “Did you get the e-mail I sent today?”
     “Yeah. That’s weird about the toothpaste. Did you get some Pepto?” In her    e-mail, Miss L mentioned that she tried some new toothpaste that morning and promptly got sick, as in puking sick. She said she was going to pick something up at the drug store.
     “Um, no,” she said.  
     “Well, why not, silly?”
     “Um,” she said.
     Silence from her end. A beat. Two. Three. Four.
     “What?” I said.
     “Um … yeah. … Um … yeah.”
     She has this way of hesitating sometimes when she’s trying to get to the heart of the matter. I have this way of being impatient.
     “What?” I said again.
     “Um … yeah. Ah … yeah. Ah. … It. … Yeah. … Um, ah …” More silence.
     “Would you just spit it out already?” I said.
     “Um, I’m pregnant.”