The Experiment

If Wishing Made It So

Zoey's POV

December22: Today was one of those 'interesting' kinds of days. My dorm-mate, Nariel, has a little boy named, Noah, who I'll admit, I adore. You'll understand in a second.

        I was out shopping earlier and she sees me and stops to talk to me. Well, apparently, Nariel, has a 'thing' to do and needs someone to watch Noah. Guess who she asked to do it. That's right. Me. Now, I had no real problem with that. I adore Noah. He's a perfectly sweet and mild mannered baby-boy, but he gets confused about who his mother is sometimes, and that could lead to problems.

        Of course, I said yes, as if I was really given a choice in the matter and the next thing I know I'm riding back to the Residence as 'BOOK BAG' with 'PRECIOUS CARGO' on board.

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In The Limo

        Okay, here we go. It's me, Noah, and Gina back here. Gina keeps looking at me and Noah with a look that indicates that she's sure she's missed something. It's like did you give birth without consulting me or something? She had switched places with a different agent to go to the bathroom when Nariel came by.

        Now, the question at hand…How do I deal with Mom on this? Dad's basically just gonna shake his head and sigh, thinking, 'I really thought I taught them better than this.' He's no problem. She on the other hand, may have a beef.

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IN THE OVAL OFFICE

        It can get kind of awkward in the room when you're just sitting in the Oval waiting for your father to come back and the baby you're babysitting gets very hungry. I forgot that Nariel was still nursing. Apparently she forgot too. So, I'm just sitting there and then there's a slight pull on my shirt. I don't pay much attention. He's been doing that for a while now. I feel a bit of a draft and can't keep myself from looking down. Well, I'll be… I blink, unable to respond to the new sensation I'm experiencing. So, this is what it feels like? It's strange. I'm sitting here, holding Noah, and he just starts…sucking on me. I adjust him a little. I know there's nothing in there, at least I don't think there is. He'll be sorely disappointed. At least he seems calm now. He fussed all throughout the whole ride here. Maybe this will be a bit of normality for him.

        I consider trying to pry him away for a moment, but decide that it's not worth the loss of peace in the room. My eyes are drawn to the most perfect little face, relaxed in light slumber. A tiny hand rests lightly on my breast as if to ward off intruders. I lean back on the couch so that he rests primarily on my stomach.

        I remember a lullaby my daddy used to sing to me when it was just me, he, and mom at home during a storm. They'd come to my room a lay on either side of me. Dad would wrap his arms around me and momma and the world would disappear.

Oh, my angel, I swear to thee, Dear.

You are safe and protected here.

This manger offers a softer place for your descent

for you to land from Heaven went.

Mother guards you on your left.

Father guards you on your right.

The Lord, himself guards you from above.

Doubt, never, this.

You are surrounded by love.

(And there be one other not often, do you see.

He is your grandfather. He is me.)

        Without my even realizing it the words fall from my lips as if ordained from the Man, himself. Noah mews a little before kicking slightly awake for a moment. He looks at my face for what feels like an eternity before returning to the pleasant task from which he'd been disturbed.

        There is no greater feeling than this in the world. At least that's what mom said once. As I sit here, nurturing him, a boy not even my own, I understand the feeling. It'll be hard to give him back. A connection has been forged. One I never want to lose.

        This time, I just hum lightly, too aware am I of the fragile and rare silence the room seems to hold at this moment. I know that all too soon, I'll have to return the world outside of the moment and forget that he ever thought, even just for a while, that I was his mother. Forget that I ever wanted to be.

        My captivation with this little slip of humanity is shattered when I hear the door open from the portico and two someones takes a few steps in before stopping. Then, the door from the outer office opens and a troop of footsteps are coming this way. They get just inside the door before they too, stop. This time, I control my gaze. It stays fixated on the oblivious child in my arms. I shift forward a bit in an attempt to shield the sight from their eyes more for my dignity than theirs.

        I hear light footsteps move towards me. My mother crouches down in front of me and pushes the hair that has fallen over the baby away. I gently touch the little face and stroke the little hand that still rests possessively over my breast.

        "Zoey…" She doesn't have to finish her question here. I know what she's asking me. Is this little angel mine? If wishing made it so, momma. If wishing made it so.

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