Ava, p.20
Ava, page 20
“That does sound just awful,” Ava said sympathetically.
“Yes, it was. You know? It would have been much easier on both of us to have had Graham grown in an egg instead,” his mother mused. After a moment, she continued. “But . . . he grew into this really strong, smart, handsome guy with a beautiful and equally wonderful wife.” Graham’s father nodded in agreement.
“We really want you to be with us for the delivery,” Graham said sincerely.
“We’ll be there.”
CHAPTER 34
We have not wings, we cannot soar;
But we have feet to scale and climb
By slow degrees, by more and more,
The cloudy summits of our time.
—Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Once Aubrey confirmed that the yolk had completely absorbed, it was time for the . . . delivery? The hatching? The birth? They were unsure of what to call it, but it didn’t matter. They were all there gathered in Graham and Ava’s home, all except for Dr. Davis. Graham and Ava, of course, but also all the others who had participated in this evolving adventure—Aubrey, Spencer, Larkin, Graham’s parents, Nicole, and Jameson. Susan happily accepted an invitation to attend as well.
After developing pneumonia, Dr. Davis had been admitted to the hospital a week earlier. Jameson, Aubrey, and Larkin had visited him daily. He was weak but talkative, wanting updates on the baby. He had been moved to the ICU the day before because he needed closer observation and had to have fluid removed from his lungs. They promised to bring him Jameson’s recording.
Graham and Ava’s bed was covered with a plush white blanket that Graham’s parents had brought as one of many baby gifts. Laid next to the blanket were ample supplies for neonatal resuscitation that Aubrey had brought, if needed. She had completed her recertification a few months earlier.
Spencer had wanted the new parents to have a fancy tool to open the egg, one that was suitable for the occasion, so he’d soldered a blunt tip to the head of a small hammer and then spray-painted it gold. He bowed toward Graham and presented it to him with a flourish. Graham then bowed down to accept it. He laid it on the bed and walked to the incubator. When Graham turned off the incubator, the room went silent. He removed the egg for the last time and laid it on the bed. Ava sat on the bed as the others gathered around. Jameson stood and filmed, focused only on the egg.
Graham held the modified hammer over the egg, in the spot where the air sac was located, and asked, “Okay . . . are we ready?”
No one said anything. They were all frozen with anticipation.
“I’d say that’s a yes,” he said, then took a deep breath as Ava held the egg steady.
Tap-tap-tap.
“Easy now . . . easy,” Spencer urged.
“Yes, yes. I know. I’m being easy.”
Tap-tap.
“Can you see his hair? What color is it?” Graham’s mother interrupted.
He sighed and continued.
Tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap.
“Still nothing?” his dad asked.
“Please, just let us focus, okay?” Graham urged.
Tap-tap-tap-tap.
CRACK.
Ava gasped.
“That’s it! Peel off the rest of it!” Larkin said excitedly.
“So, is his hair brown?” Graham’s mother asked again.
“Please, Mom . . . give us a sec, okay?”
Pieces of glistening shell dropped to the floor, revealing remnants of amnion coating a head of thick, brown hair. Gently, after Graham had removed the rest of the shell to expose his ruddy, smooth skin, Graham and Ava dried off their new baby boy, Efron.
Efron started crying immediately—a strong first wail followed by several softer and shorter bleats that sounded like a baby goat.
Graham’s parents folded the blanket that contained the shell and put it in a nearby chair so Ava could sit up in the bed to hold him.
Larkin placed him on Ava’s chest, and Ava offered her breast to soothe him. He latched on immediately and suckled. The induced lactation regimen had worked.
As Efron nursed, Ava inspected every little feature of her baby.
“He has a belly button!” Ava exclaimed.
“Yes,” Larkin confirmed. “And see? He has a little bit of umbilical cord from where it was attached to the yolk. He’s just like other babies. Well, of course, I think he’s above average since he’s my grandson.”
When Efron dozed off after his first feeding, Ava swaddled him tightly. Then everyone took turns holding him and agreeing on how perfect he was. Larkin was overcome with emotion as she gazed at a life that less than an hour ago had been encased in a shell. She was so thankful. Thankful for Dr. Davis’s mother, whose untimely death had inspired her son. Thankful for Dr. Davis’s brilliant mind. Thankful for her husband and the friends who had supported her. Thankful for the daughter who understood her.
And it made Larkin think of Maeve and how she felt she’d failed her so long ago. That pain, that anguish would always be with her, but seeing her grandson in her daughter’s arms gave her comfort and hope.
When Jameson was done filming, Nicole thanked the family profusely for giving her the opportunity to be both an eyewitness and a reporter. She hoped to complete her work within a few months and then broadcast it to the world. It was unbelievable, and it was going to be quite a story to tell.
Jameson packed up his recording equipment and told Larkin he would call after visiting his dad in the ICU and playing him the video of Efron’s birth. Her phone rang a few hours later. “Hi, Jameson! So, how is he doing? What did he think?” Larkin asked.
“Larkin . . . Dad died. The pneumonia worsened. He knew he wasn’t going to survive this, but he wasn’t scared. He said he was fulfilled. He didn’t get to see the recording of Efron, but I told him everything. He was so pleased.”
“I’m so very sorry, Jameson.”
“He made me promise to tell you something he said was important, Larkin. He said to look for him in his next incarnation.”
“Did he say what he might be?”
“Yes—a duck.”
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
To my brother, Ron and my sister-in-law, Nikki, for their endless patience and support. To my husband, Mike, for being my most enthusiastic fan with unwavering positivity. To my best friend, Kathryn, for always lifting my spirits when I would spiral into self-doubt.
Much appreciation to my parents for instilling in me a love of reading and encouraging me to make my voice be heard. And thanks to my brother, Richard, for reinforcing their teachings.
Thank you, Dr. Robert Minkoff, for giving me my first job as a research scientist and making me into a bona fide “chickenologist” before I became a medical doctor.
For reading and commenting on the early iterations of my manuscript, I thank my friends: Suzanne Schierholt Smith, Joy Bisesi, and Aubrey King. I also thank the professionals who helped me with invaluable input: Megann Kammerman, Amy Vrana, and Lindsey Salatka.
My website would not exist without the generous help and incredible talent of Larken Lech.
Thank you to Brooke Warner and the She Writes Press team for your enthusiasm, hard work, and this amazing opportunity. Thank you to the publicity and marketing team at Books Forward for your support and our shared love of puns.
This book would not have been written without the US Supreme Court decision of June 24, 2022, so I reluctantly thank six of the justices for their inspiration. A sincere thank you to Justices Breyer, Sotomayor and Kagan for their dissent. And thank you Justice Jackson for sharing the poem that has been your guiding principle.
Finally, thank you to my own little bird, Ava. I’m looking forward to hearing your stories. Always remember that life has just one period but many, many commas.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Victoria Dillon is a former research scientist, current pediatrician and writer with a passion for exploring the intersections of politics and science. She has a unique ability to blend speculative fiction with thought-provoking social commentary, creating prose that speaks both to the heart and the mind. She has lived in the South throughout her childhood and career and loves naps with her cat, Americana music, and hunting for her next read at Parnassus Books in Nashville, Tennessee. She currently resides in Middle Tennessee.
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Victoria Dillon, Ava
