Hong Kong Young Writers Anthologies Fiction 4-7 2019 | Page 37

Nopadon began thinking of ways he could have helped Duangkamol and how he could not be with his wife, he could
only wait outside while his wife suffered through the birth of their child. Similarly, Khajee was determined that she was
unfit to become a mother, and those were signs telling her so. No one in the village knew how much damage the death
of their children brought to the couple. After all, the smallest coffins are the heaviest.
The midwives knew something was wrong, Khajee was panicking. They soothed Khajee inside while Nopadon was
alone with his own thoughts.
Nopadon paced around the hospital for the duration of the labor. For 11 hours, he either sat on the grassy ground next
to the door of the hospital or paced around the fence. He was sweating, much like Khajee. Nopadon tried to sleep on
the grass but his mind would not allow him to do so. He did not trust strangers easily, what if the midwives were
causing trouble instead of helping. Nopadon knew the birth rates were low, every few years there would be a child, and
if there was an infant, the likelihood of a child dying due to infections was high.
Nopadon was not a naive human. He knew what the chances of the infant surviving were. The local doctor and the
midwives barely know each other. They had no chemistry. If a division of power happens during the course of the
labor, there was no doubt that there would be consequences.
Nopadon dived into rabbit holes upon rabbit holes, thousands of scenarios are pictured in his mind, yet not a single one
of them was positive. He lurked outside of the hospital until the roosters began to crow. Then the sound of people was
heard, shuffling, yawning, laughing…
Nopadon observed how his neighborhood operated like clockwork, much like the crew members on the ship. The
milkman going to every household on a bike similar to his age, providing the villagers’ fresh milk before the sun even
greeted him. It seemed natural to swerve his bike right as the shepherd walked straight to him. Without looking, they
both waved to each other and greeted each other, then continued on their road.
He observed through the windows, how every family had their own systems of operation. The one on his left was the
farmer's house. They were the richest in the village and they had 5 kids. He saw how the wife would cook while the
daughters helped with the cleaning while the father and sons got ready for a hard day of work.
Nopadon turned and looked at the home on the right. There lives a lonely man whose wife died at childbirth. The
whole village went to her funeral. It was one of the most devastating thing the village has encountered. He marked the
contrast between the fast-paced family to the slow, gloomy man who lost the reason for him to live. Deep down,
Nopadon was afraid he would turn out like that widower. Old and alone.
Before he could brainstorm any further, one of the three midwives barged out the door to give Nopadon the great
news.
After sanitary procedures, Nopadon entered and greeted his teary wife. Looking at their newborn son, Nopadon
thought of a perfect name for him - Prasert.