The first morning at Collier's parents' house she sleeps late and wakes up groggy and slightly hungover. There's a large note next to the coffee pot in the kitchen. Jenna, it says, in Collier's neat hand, At Colleen's. Couldn't wait. Here's the address, driving instructions, keys for the only car in the driveway. Love, Col. P.S. Hurry. She likes how he always puts a period at the end of Col, to make it seem like the abbreviation for Colonel. He'd probably be happier in the military, she thinks, better suited to be around those with like dispositions.
She has to park almost a block away. Both sides of the streets are lined with cars. Someone is having a party. When she gets closer she double-checks the address because it seems the party is at the same house she's going to, his sister's house. He never told her there were going to be a lot of people over. She didn't shower and her hair is pulled back into a pony tail, tucked into the back of her pink hoodie and she's wearing jeans with holes in the knees. She didn't even bother with make-up.
There are so many people in the house, some still coming up behind her, she doesn't bother knocking. Collier catches her as soon as she walks through the door, the edges of the room more crowded. Then she sees the table. There it is, taking center stage, its legs perfectly polished, the top covered with what looks to be a thin hospital mattress. Nobody touches it; nobody even leans on it.
"Right on schedule," he says. His parents are waving in the background and beckoning her to come over for introductions.
"What are all these people doing here?"
"Celebrating, of course."
She scans the room. It's men, women and children. Some teenage boys have staked the stairs for themselves, one on every step leading up to the 2nd floor. They're eating pizza and sneakily sharing a single can of beer. When she looks around some of the men and boys turn away quickly, as if she had just caught them staring directly at her. You'd think the party would be after the baby comes, she thinks, not before.
She's glad to see there's plenty of wine so she quickly drinks one glass and pours herself another. She forgot to ask the doctor if she can take Xanax when she's pregnant. If she could take a Xanax she wouldn't drink nearly as much, she tells herself. It should be enough that she has mostly quit smoking.
"Bathroom?" she asks a woman standing in front of a closed door.
"I know you," the woman says. "You're the coming attraction." She wears glasses the size of a windshield, magnifying the pock marks on her upper cheeks. A thick coat of makeup draws even more attention to the scars. Jenna can't decide if that's her natural hair or a wig. Either way it seems to float an inch away from her head, never making actual contact.
"Coming attraction?" Jenna says.
"The next birthing," she says. "The next baby to come."
"Where will everyone go when she's in labor?" Jenna asks.
"Where will they go? It's what they're here for."
"She has the baby right there in front of everyone?" Jenna asks in disbelief.
"What's the big secret? Everyone knows where babies come from."
"There are so many people," Jenna says.
"Colleen always draws a big crowd. This is her fourth. She puts on quite the performance. She manages to be passionate and stoic at the same time is how my husband puts it. He studied literature."
Jenna finally gets into the bathroom and the pee leaves her with a resounding whoosh. She does her eyes and brushes out her long, dark tresses. She'd like a hot bath and if there were towels in here she might just take one. Being around all these people makes her crave for a cigarette. She'll have a party for everyone when her baby comes. A big one no sooner than a few months after she has the baby, she thinks. Maybe for the first birthday.
The entire downstairs is jammed with people, all of the chairs and couches filled. She pours another glass of wine and climbs over the boys sitting on the stairs. She feels them staring at her ass as she passes them. One wolf-whistles and the others laugh. She peeks into a room looking for a bed and finds one, a bed with a female version of Collier sitting on it. "They send you up to get me?" Colleen says.
"I was just looking for a place to rest," she says.
Big crowd?" Colleen says.
"There's hardly any room," Jenna says.
"Yours will be even bigger. They're already making plans, now that they've seen how pretty you are they will be. I hope your house is big. They always like to travel when it's not a blood relative."
"Mine? I'm not doing it like this. I said I'd have the baby at home but I'm not doing it front of all those strangers."
"It's not that bad. It's like your wedding day all over again. You get to be the star, at least for most of it anyway. I think it's time," she says.
Jenna takes her arm and guides her into the hallway. Colleen walks slightly hunched-over, almost as if in a squat. The boys on the stairs make room and the applause begins, first a lone pair of hands and soon it grows and everyone is clapping. Jenna feels like she's walking back down the wedding aisle herself, only this time she's the father, accompanying the bride. Maybe that's why she kisses Colleen's cheek when they reach the table.
Colleen refuses help and pushes herself up onto the table easily. The legs creak. There's a crack of thunder outside and the lights in the house flicker. This brings more applause and some laughs. Colleen is leaning back against a large pillow, her feet flat, gown hiked up to her waist. Things grow quiet, only her heavy breathing and the hum of an electric clock. The rain starts tapping at the closed windows like ten thousand tiny fingers. The room is warm and sticky. She feels flushed and wants to take off her sweatshirt but is only wearing a bra underneath. She heads toward the front door, hoping to reach the porch and get some air when Collier comes up from behind and wraps his arms around her. He spins her back facing the table. "Isn't it beautiful?" he whispers.
Jenna has never thought of her own vagina as beautiful; quite frankly, she doesn't find what she saw of Colleen's vagina to be particularly attractive either. She's feeling drunk. She hopes a few drinks a day now and again won't turn her baby into an alcoholic like the rest of her family is.
She imagines what it would be like to be up there, to have a hundred eyes fixated on her genitalia, maybe a handful now and again staring at her face in an attempt to register her suffering. Having a complete stranger looking right into her asshole, especially given the high likelihood of defecation, is not what she bargained for. She agreed to have it at home; she didn't agree to sell tickets to the event.
"You'll be so incredible," he whispers directly into her ear, the sensation of his breath covering her body with chills.
Based on the changing tenor of the moans, moans which soon become screams, her voice loud and ragged, and the reaction of the front row, Colleen is crowning. Jenna feels herself being shoved forward by Collier. She tries to resist but he keeps pushing her forward. "Come on," he says. "You need to see this." Those in front part for her. She finds herself at the foot of the table, staring between Colleen's wide-open legs. There's the head, pushing its way out. At first it doesn't look like a head but instead looks like one end of a giant blue egg dripping in snot and blood. As loud as Colleen is, Jenna is sure she'll scream twice as loud. There is no way something that big can come out of her own tiny passage, she thinks. It will split her in half. There are the eyes and the nose and then the mouth. This doesn't feel like something she should be seeing. It's too private but she can't look away. She's doesn't want to be so close but is afraid if she turns around she might fall. She has a fear of grabbing the edge of the table and tipping it over, the baby's head splattering all over everyone's shoes, Colleen's vagina landing right in Jenna's face. She's lightheaded; the whole of her continually swims to the surface and her blood pounds through her veins and arteries.
And so she stands perfectly still and stares, stares until long after the baby, a girl, has stopped crying and is safely latched to its mother's breasts, a period of time, she hopes, sufficient enough for all of the men and women and children to get an generous eyeful of the coming attraction.
Tom Bonfiglio's stories have most recently appeared in Greenbriar Review, Mixer, Evergreen Review and his work is featured in the anthology of Love & Death: heartburn, headaches, and hangovers. "Coming Attraction" is the fourth story of his to appear in Unlikely Stories. Find him on Facebook.
del.icio.us
