Code of Ethics

Quite a Mess

Gnawing on my lip, my fingers flew across my laptop keyboard, trying to take down every important thing that came out of my professor’s mouth. My wrists were aching from being stuck in the same position for almost an hour and a half, but I couldn’t crap out just yet. We had an exam the next day of class, and if I bombed it, then I knew my grade would shoot straight to hell. And if my grade shot straight to hell, all the hard work I put into studying and keeping the best grades for years would have been for nothing.

Everyone around me started to pack up, readying themselves to head out of class, while I was still translating my thoughts onto the document in front of me. I was a fast typist, but nowhere near fast enough. I had no idea how those other kids could finish so quickly. Maybe their notes weren’t as detailed as mine.

Soon enough, I was walking down the sidewalk of a main London road to head back to my flat, where Marie was either absent or sleeping at eleven in the morning. I knew she had a class that started at eleven thirty, but she very infrequently attended any lectures that weren’t about her major, which was fashion marketing or something similar.

Finally in the heat of my flat, I unbuttoned my pea coat and threw it over the back of the chair to my right, making sure there were no folds in the fabric so it could dry properly after getting damp from the fog outside.

The flat was dark and silent, which I always hated. As I made my way through the different “rooms”, which were actually just open areas that spilled into one another, I flicked on all the lights to make sure no axe murderer could sneak up behind me.

As I settled onto the couch, ready to laze around all night, thanks to a startling lack of homework, my phone went off. The front lit up with a picture of one of the girls at work, the name Sabrina scribbled underneath it.

“Hello?” I answered, curling my legs up underneath me.

“Hey, Tara,” she responded. Her voice was nasally and unpleasant, and I caught on immediately to why she was calling. “Look, I got the flu, and I was wondering if you could possibly watch Sophia for me tonight.”

Oh. Plot twist. “Watch Sophia?” I questioned. “For how long?”

“Her dad has the night shift, so it would be overnight. I’m really sorry for dropping this on you, but her normal sitter has an exam in the morning or something, and you’re the only one I can think of that would be responsible to care for her.”

And even though I’d never taken care of a baby before in my life, I found myself saying, “Okay.”

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The child was screaming at the top of her lungs, her little pudgy face overtaken in violent red coloring. Her fists were balled into fists that looked so tight, I was afraid her little fingernails were digging into her palms.

“Shhh,” I soothed, rubbing her small round stomach, but it did nothing to soothe her. “Sophia, it’s okay.”

Her screams seemed to increase in volume, so I pulled her up into my hands and patted her back softly, bouncing up and down. I had no freaking clue what to do, and I knew it was nothing I’d done, since I was certain I was holding her properly. I couldn't thank God enough that Marie was out partying with a group of her friends.

“Oh, wait, do you need changing?” I mumbled, holding her an arm’s length away from me. How was I supposed to check for that sort of thing? Smelling her butt didn’t seem like a very classy way to examine the possibility, but I wasn’t really sure what else to do.

Biting my lip, I decided instead to unzip the back of her onesie and pull open the waistband of her diaper.

Contorting my face and withdrawing from the stench, I expressed in a choked voice, “Yeah, definitely a diaper change.”

The experience of changing a diaper was not one of the most pleasant things I’d ever done in my life. It was smelly and disgusting, and Sophia almost rolled into the mess when I tried to work. But all the while, she was smiling and happy, like she was happy of her little accomplishment that was making me almost sick to my stomach.

“There,” I stated after throwing away the diaper, heading straight to the sink to deep-clean my hands, all the while keeping an eye on her to make sure she didn’t find any danger. “Now that’s all done. What’s the worst that can happen now?”

She babbled a little bit, continuing to pull herself across the floor, getting ever-closer to the sharp corner of the television.

After drying my hands and throwing the paper towel in the rubbish bin, I hurried over the Sophia and scooped her up into my arms before she had a chance to hurt herself. “How about some Pocahontas, huh?”

Her only response was to put her palm against my cheek, the heat from her body transferring over to my face. I had no idea whether that meant she liked the movie or not, but since it was the only kids’ movie I owned, it was going to have to do.

Sophia seemed to be pretty into the movie, glancing up every so often, looking entranced, although her hands still moved her toys up and down to make a bit of a ruckus. I sat on the couch, trying to seem hands-off, but always watching to make sure she was okay.

God, she was tiny. It almost seemed impossible that all humans, from supermodels to giant basketball players to my tiny elderly neighbor, started off as little pudgy babies that didn’t know how to do much other than the bare essentials. Even geniuses were born without the ability to talk.

The sound of a crash, followed by incredibly loud screams, ripped me out of my pensive thoughts. Sophia was nowhere to be found in the area in front of the television, and the bookcase in the corner of the room was facedown, the picture frame on top of it shattered.

Sophia, thankfully, had crawled out of the way before the thing collapsed, but she was still scared, obviously. Muttering curse word after curse word, I pulled her up into my arms and deposited her into the car seat positioned on the table.

She continued to scream at decibels that were seriously in danger of bursting my ear drums as I scrambled to vacuum up the glass shards, put the bookcase back in its position without letting many of the books tumble to the floor, and checking over the titles to make sure they were still in alphabetical order.

“Gosh, Sophie,” I cooed as I went over to pick her back up. “You made quite a mess, didn’t you?”

She sniffled and rubbed her tear-soaked eye before nuzzling her face into the crook of my neck. Her breath was warm on my collarbone, her heartbeat much faster than my own as she drifted off to sleep.

I knew it was moments like those, where the baby was calm and beautiful, where the chaos had been left behind, when parents knew the troubles were worth it. That a baby was the most influential thing they’d ever given the world.

But I didn’t understand how it was worth it. Maybe I was biased because I’d been the kind of girl who never wanted to get married or have children or have a family at all, but it just felt like so much work.

And what if that work wasn’t even worth it? What if, after a parent’s best efforts, they still raised a serial killer or a career criminal or a bum or a jerk? It just didn’t seem worth the trouble. Maybe it looked cute to watch on television or in the movies, but in real life, it didn’t make a whole lot of sense.

When Jacob, Sabrina’s fiancé, came to pick up his kid, I assured him that she was a perfect angel, that nothing went wrong, that she was the sweetest baby I’d ever met. And maybe Sabrina and Jacob’s trials would be worth it.

But there was no way I wanted any part of that lifestyle for myself. Not then, and not ever.
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Yeah, so it doesn't look like Tara's ready for a kid. Hahaha. I just wanted to show how much she dislikes the idea of marriage and children and such.

Sooooo, just as a little heads-up, there's this awesome story that I've been asked to advertise called Pretence. It's gonna be absolutely fabulous, and I think you guys will enjoy it, if you want to give it a little read. ;) Hee hee.

Thanks, y'all!