Soccer Mom

German walked slowly between the rows of cars on the lot towards the side of the show room; the best shade was on that side of the building. He looked up in the sky and imagined the sun holding a gigantic magnifying glass concentrating its heat directly on him; the Texas sun is rather obnoxious in the summer.

Even though his sleeves had been rolled up, then unfolded and buttoned, the heat drove him to roll his sleeves up... again. German's tie had been loosened and tightened several times in reaction to the heat and the appearance of potential customers. Car sales in the summer, in Middle-of-Nowhere, Texas, was for schmucks.

Baby on board, he thought as a couple walked, or waddled due to pregnancy pains, towards the shade he had been occupying. Exhaustion dripped out of him in the form of a light sweat and he hoped they wouldn't notice his pit stains. He walked towards them and introduced himself.

"Howdy folks, my name's German," he said, extending his hand, "Nobody in town can service you like us. So what can I do for you?"

The woman forced her mouth into a straight line to keep from laughing while her beau scratched his head and told himself this guy couldn't be real.

"Don't worry, I get that all the time." German said chuckling heartily, "The owner of the lot went to some customer service seminar a while back and came home with sales scripts to make sure we moved these ve-hic-les. So we say that little line so we get our commission."

Having been distracted from shaking the car salesman's hand, the man put his hand out to catch German's.

"Brandon Alms," he said with a firm grip.

"German Addleroy." His hands were rough and calluses scraped against Brandon's palm. German turned to the pregnant woman and held out his hand.

"Rhonda," she said as she shook his hand.

"Ma'am, I guarantee this'll be quick and painless."

German closed his eyes and placed the middle and index fingers of both hands at his temples, "I'm guessin' y'all are lookin' for something spacious. Something for a football team of little devils?"

"That sounds about right," Brandon said as he winked at Rhonda.

"Oh, hush," she giggled.

Brandon grabbed her hand and they followed German.

"V6 engine, automatic transmission, 21 miles to the gallon, and plenty of space for your soccer team of hellions. Only question is which color do you like?"

"Can I hook up my iPod?" asked Rhonda.

German laughed from his gut, "Yes, sweetheart, you can. Lemme show you where the USB ports are."

"Is this the basic model?" She asked.

"Yes ma'am, it is. You wanna see something fancier?"

Her eyes sparkled with anticipation as she nodded. She was seven months pregnant and van shopping made her recognize that all of this was real; her husband, their house with the soft green lawn, the baby inside of her, and now a minivan. All she needed now was a white picket fence.

As a group, they walked a couple vans down. This one was all black with tinted windows.

Brandon wrapped his arms around her waist from behind and rested his hands on top of her pregnant bulge.

"Sweetie, you like this one better?"

Rhonda nodded slowly. She knew he was only asking because he really liked it.

"Lemme show you all the space in the back," said German as he started sliding the door open.

Suddenly, the world moved in slow motion. Rhonda grabbed Brandon's hands and squeezed; she needed to sit down.

Lord, call a repairman because the AC's broken, she thought as the temperature around her skyrocketed.

"He has nothing to do with this," said Brandon. He nuzzled his face into her neck and kissed her. Every one of his kisses burned. Rhonda's eyes widened and tears began to fall slowly down her cheeks.

"Aww, don't be sad. Do you know what we've done?"

Rhonda slowly shook her head. Brandon kept his mouth eerily close to her ear. "This baby," he said, rubbing her belly, "is a miracle. Better than a miracle."

"I... I don't get it," she said.

"This baby, our baby, is royalty; a prince… the prince."

Rhonda jerked when she realized German was still there, leaning up against the van, frozen in time.

"I know it's a lot to take in, but we'll get through this," he said, "but right now, we need to go home." Brandon stepped to her side.

Rhonda looked up at him, not believing what she was hearing. She'd wake up from this incredibly vivid dream that pregnant women are prone to, and start dinner.

"Do I have a choice?"

Brandon caressed her cheek, searing her skin. "No."

He put his arm around her waist and leaned into the back of the van. The bench seats faded away and were replaced by a menacing darkness. Brandon stepped behind her and pushed her through the gates of hell and jumped in after her. Rhonda's limbs flailed in panic. Brandon's shifty eyes never left Rhonda's form, seemingly lounging as they fell into oblivion.

"Wake up," said Brandon, "Wake up."

When Rhonda woke, she let out a horrific cry. As her scream faded, she buried her head into Brandon's chest.

"I was so scared." Her tears soaked his shirt.

"I've never seen you do that before. Are you okay?"

Rhonda turned her lamp on, her face red and wet. She looked at Brandon and he gave her a goofy smile. She laughed.

"I'm fine," she said, exhaling the last bit of fear from her body, "I'm fine."

"Great." Brandon wrapped his arms around her, "No one can hurt you now." Rhonda snuggled into his chest.

"Let's go back to sleep."

Rhonda turned her lamp off and laid her head on Brandon's chest.

"I love you Brandon."

Brandon stared into the dark, eyes glowing like coals licked in flames, "I love you too."

THE END

Bio: Vannessa is a soldier in the U.S. Army, mother, wife, writer, and part-time ninja. When she is not rounding up her youngins or writing, she’s training in her hyperbolic chamber--location unknown.

E-mail: Vannessa Peterson.

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