The baby’s small ear looked mangled, and there was blood crusted in the folds. There was blood matting the hair. Sam and Carlotta were looking at me, waiting for an answer.

“I guess you really did it this time,” I said finally.

Sam bounced a little on his heels. His grin lit up the dim room.

Carlotta dragged deeply at the tea. “You don’t know how to bathe a baby, do you?”

I shook my head.

She turned to Sam. “Maybe Rennel will take you over to Spike’s. Ask Jean if she’ll come and show me how.”

Sam leapt out the door. I heard him hustling Rennel. The kitchen door clicked, the Rambler rumbled and moved off over the gravel. They waited till they were far down the drive before slamming shut the doors. Carlotta watched the box. I watched her.

“So what’s it like to have a baby?”

Her hands tremored faintly as she answered. “It’s like taking a big shit. That’s really what it feels like.”

She looked tired. The bruised color beneath her eyes was deeper. She smelled of sweat, through the tang of the disinfectant. A fine, electric frizz stood up from her braids.

“Were you scared?”

“Yes.” She cupped the bowl. The puce-colored tea dregs rocked lazily. Her jaws tightened and the soft look disappeared from her face. “Not at first. I wasn’t afraid at all for nine months.”

She put the bowl down on the mattress and leaned back against the wall. There were streaks in the paint from her scrubbing. She kept one limp hand on the edge of the box.

“Everything was ready. I put the sheets on with a bunch of newspapers underneath to catch the blood. I made a double batch of bread so I wouldn’t have to think about that for a while. We took all the clothes into the laundromat in town. But I couldn’t be sure exactly when he was coming. Aram was getting pissed off waiting. He kept saying, ‘Do you feel anything? Do you feel anything?’ and then a couple of days ago he said he didn’t think I was trying. With this ugly look on his face.”

She sat up and peered intently into the box. The baby slept. His breath moved the blanket. He didn’t seem to have any eyelashes. I tittered a little nervously.

“He was just joking,” I said. “It must be hard waiting for something that could happen any time but doesn’t.”

She reached for the baby like she might pick him up, and then put her hand back to the edge of the box. Her eyes, when she turned to me again, were hard and glittering.