When Tanya lost her baby at a casino in Las Vegas, she felt elated.
For a few moments, she thought she was free, like how a 19-year-old should be. Just after she realized her baby was gone, she saw a group of six girls around her age, two of them were wearing University of Nevada at Las Vegas t-shirts, and the other four were dressed up like preppy strippers - tennis skirts and halter tops and just too much eyeshadow. Tanya imagined being the seventh girl, just as fresh and sexy as the rest, sexier even. Because unlike them, she knew her body well. She imagined herself being the queen of the group - the one all the boys wanted, but were too intimidated to act (she fantasized about being wanted, but knew what could happen, so she didn’t let her mind go into those parts).
With her domineering demeanor, the other girls looked up to her, and wanted to be her because she had the looks, the knowledge, and was also an amazing student wowing her teachers with her business acumen. No doubt this bad bitch was going to be a billionaire. She imagined herself on the cover of Vogue by the age of 25: From Bad Bitch to Boss Bitch. Or maybe Bad AND Boss Bitch. Tanya wasn’t sure if they allow the word “bitch” on the cover, but if they didn't, she’d be important enough for them to change that policy.
Tanya had similar thoughts before, but had always quickly put them away, feeling guilty for thinking them. But now, they spun in her head like a montage reel on a big screen, with her in the audience, chomping popcorn and watching with glee. She could feel, touch, and smell every moment of those images as if she really lived them - and she knew she could have them now that her baby was gone. Tanya closed her eyes and smiled, imagining all her dreams coming true, her life as perfect as could be. She could feel it.
“Is this your baby?”
It was an old woman’s voice, unfamiliar, with a New York accent. Tanya opened her eyes and saw a gray-haired white woman with a wrinkled face and a pearl necklace. She held Tanya’s baby in her arms, but Tanya couldn’t stand the sight of it. It looked like a revolting bug that should be stepped on, picked up with tissue, and thrown in the toilet. But that wouldn’t do.
“Yeah, that’s my baby,” Tanya said.
“You left her in the bathroom,” the old woman said.
“I didn’t leave her. I just forgot.”
“What kind of mother forgets her own baby in a bathroom at a Las Vegas casino?”
Those words were like a giant wave grabbed hold of Tanya’s arm and slapped the old woman with full oceanic force. The old woman went down like a demolished building. And with her went Tanya’s baby, who landed on its head.
Nobody in the casino heard the small thud from the impact of the baby’s still-soft skull hitting the floor. Nobody heard the brain getting wounded, circuits going haywire, and tissue getting wrecked.
But Tanya saw her baby hit the ground and knew right away that the baby’s brain was blended beyond repair. She picked up the baby, who wasn’t crying, but had a dull look in its eyes, like it was looking at something nobody else could see.
Tanya cupped the baby’s head in her hand, trying to soak up the pain and damage, but knew she couldn’t. She just knew she had to do this.
The college girls stood around her, asking if they could help. They looked younger and more imperfect up close - bad make-up, pimples, blotchy skin. Tanya thought she looked better, even in this situation.
She told the girls no, everything was fine.
The baby started twitching and convulsing. More people gathered around Tanya. Some screamed for help. Some recorded with their cell phones.
But Tanya just sat there, brain-damaged baby in her hands, and wondered about what kinds of business courses she could take in prison.
She should’ve sold the baby for meth.