Haul – Liz Charnes

MIKE SAT THE final box on the ground. Everything was out of the basement. “This is it, babe.” He wiped his forehead and took a long drink of his warming beer. “Anything you want to keep? It’s now or never.”

Maddy ran her hands over the bassinet’s safety rail. After holding three babies, it was a little worse for wear, but nothing that a good sanding and a fresh coat of paint couldn’t fix.

Not that she’d go that far. The bassinet was a cheap plywood piece of crap. She had gotten pregnant too fast, too soon, and back then they couldn’t afford anything nice. The bassinet she had wanted was over $3,000 at Ethan Allen’s. This one was a Target special, $150 marked down to $67, but Mike had promised her for their next baby he’d get her the Ethan Allen one. “Next time, baby. I promise. Besides, it means more if you have to wait for it.”

And so, she did. She’d waited and waited. Three children later, and no Ethan Allen bassinet. The promise had been forgotten, along with a whole host of others. She wiped her hands on her jeans. “Haul it away.”

“All of it?”

She nodded. “All of it.”