Little Shrimpy

Mandy Manning

Greta opened the freezer. Her eyes immediately went to the shrimp-shaped thing in the baggy on the second shelf. Her face flushed hot and she touched her abdomen. When the tears started, she forced herself to look away. Instead, she tapped on the icemaker. “The damn ice is on the fritz again!” She yelled through the screen door at Hal.

“Just flip the arm a few times.” Hal started up the lawnmower.

“I’ve already done that.” Greta flipped the metal arm again. “Stupid machine.” She hit the side of the plastic box and sighed. “We just need a new freezer!” She yelled out to him.

Her eyes wandered over the contents of the freezer: three frozen pizzas, a half bag of microwave bean burritos, and a dozen weight watcher’s meals. Greta hated cooking.

She looked again at the baggy on the second shelf. The vanilla ice cream had melted a little and seeped out of the container. Little drops of white dotted the baggy. Greta reached out and gently rubbed away the ice cream. No need for him to be dirty. He was still frozen. Hard to the touch. “You would’ve been a good boy,” she said to the frozen embryo. “You stay that way or the doctor won’t be able to do any tests and figure out what happened to you.”

The bloody mass had been in there since the previous Saturday when “it” all happened. This was her third loss in a year and half. She had an appointment with the doctor to see what kept going wrong, but it wasn’t for another week.

Greta had read on the Internet that if possible she should keep the remains of the miscarriage. But every day it was more and more difficult not to look at the tiny mass peeking out from beneath the ice packs. The tissue barely resembled anything living, but if Greta looked hard enough she could just make out what looked like a dark red crustacean without the shell.

Looking at the small shrimp made her nose tingle and she quickly shut the door. She thought about asking Hal to be the official freezer looker, but he already thought it creepy she’d kept the fetus.

The whole ordeal made Greta so sad she had to take a leave from work. But now that she was home every day, she was forced to look at the lumpy curl of tissue that used to be her baby before every meal, when she took out the toaster waffles for breakfast, retrieved her microwave meals at lunch, and defrosted the chicken for dinner.

Last night, the shrimp invaded her dreams. Greta had dreamt the little guy swam around in a fish bowl and she fed it flakes of dry skin. Now, as she looked at the tiny guy in the freezer, Greta decided to officially call him “Shrimpy.” After all, he had been her baby, if only for a little while.

That night, after Hal finished mowing the lawn, as Greta spooned a heaping pile of canned spinach onto Hal’s plate, she approached the subject. “I’ve been thinking that maybe it’s not so nice to keep Shrimpy in the freezer like that.”

Mid-bite Hal looked up at her. “What are you talking about?”

“You know,” Greta’s eyes grew wide, “Shrimpy.” She motioned toward her belly. “The baby.” Greta sat down across from her husband. “It’s pretty cold in there.”

“Isn’t that the point?”

Greta mixed her macaroni and cheese together with the spinach. She didn’t look up. “I read on the Internet about this guy who put his dead gerbil in the freezer. After a week he took it out. Once it defrosted, the gerbil came right back to life, like it had been regenerated.”

Hal narrowed his eyes and shook his head like he smelled something bad. “That’s disturbing, Greta.” He shoveled a mouthful of macaroni into his mouth, but continued speaking anyway. “It’s bad enough your keeping that thing. Don’t get any stupid ideas that it can come back to life.”

A bit of macaroni shot out of his mouth on the “p” in “stupid.” It flew across the table and landed on Greta’s drinking glass. She picked up her napkin and wiped the yellow fleck off the rim and took a sip. “I just, it’s been so hard.” Her eyes burned and she blinked hard to hold back the tears.

Hal set his fork down. “You aren’t gonna cry, are you?”

Greta shook her head. “No,” she said as three tears dripped from her eyes.

Hal reached across the table and took her hand, giving it a squeeze. “I didn’t mean to say you were stupid.”

“I know.” Greta blotted at her eyes with her napkin. “I’m just sad, that’s all.”

Hal smiled. “You know we’re gonna try again.”

Greta nodded.

That night as Greta washed the dishes she thought about Shrimpy, how he might be shivering in that cold freezer, how he might be lonely. She checked on him multiple times. Such a tiny little guy.

“It’s ok, Shrimpy,” she whispered into the cold, her breath a hot puff of steam. “Mamma’s here.”

By the next morning Greta had made up her mind. Shrimpy did not want to be in that freezer. The cold wasn’t good for him. He might not have been ready before, but now he was and he needed to be warm so he could grow. Only one good place for a baby to grow, thought Greta.

Greta didn’t know how she was going to get Shrimpy back inside her uterus, though. She supposed she could try to stuff him back in, but that just didn’t seem right. He might get stuck and babies couldn’t grow if they weren’t in the right place. If she thought Hal would understand, she’d have tried to get him to help her, but no way that would happen. He already thought her stupid.

As she sliced tomatoes that morning for the crockpot salsa chicken, the slimy red fruit gave Greta an idea. She opened the refrigerator and pulled out Shrimpy. He still looked like a small crustacean.

Greta eased open the baggy and pulled Shrimpy out onto the cutting board. “This will only hurt for a second, sweetie.” Using the paring knife she sliced half an inch from the thick end. “Once your back inside me, you’ll be right as rain.” She tucked the remainder of Shrimpy back into the baggy and placed him beneath the ice packs in the freezer. “We’ll only have to do this a few more times. I promise.” Greta reasoned that Shrimpy hadn’t been whole to begin with, what with the sperm and the egg and the growing of cells. This would work the same way. All the pieces just needed to find each other again to give him a second chance.

Greta went back, picked up the cutting board, and tipped it over the crockpot. The tomatoes and the little piece of Shrimpy fell into the mix. Greta swished it around with the spoon and set the temperature to low. “The heat will help you grow,” she said before closing the lid.

By the time Hal arrived home that evening, Greta beamed with excitement. She met him at the door, helped him out of his work jacket, and practically shoved him over to the dinner table.

“Something smells good.” Hal grinned up at Greta from his seat. “Did you actually cook?”

Greta already had the plates dressed with corn tortillas, lettuce, onions, and black olives, so she only had to scoop on the meat mixture. “I can cook. I just usually don’t like to.” She eyed each plate carefully to make sure Shrimpy made it onto hers, then walked over to the table.

Hal sat down, tucked his napkin into his shirt collar, and licked his lips. Greta set the plates down. Hal looked from one to the other and frowned, eyeing the small round disk of meat on Greta’s plate. “Is that sausage?” He looked at his own plate carefully. “How come I only got chicken?”

Greta smiled. She picked up a pinch of cheese, and put it on top of the meat. “That’s just a little bit of gizzard, Hal. You hate gizzard.” She sprinkled the lettuce, onions, and olives on top, rolled the taco, and brought it to her mouth.

Greta took a bite then swallowed it whole. It was one thing for Shrimpy to be in a few sections, but quite another for him to be minced. The bite went down more easily than she expected. And, if she wasn’t mistaken, she could already feel a little flutter in her belly, kind of like the quickening she’d felt in her second pregnancy. Warmth washed over her. “I love you, Hal.”

Hal stopped mid-chew. “Well, I love you, too, sweetie.” He put his fork down. “You’re in such a good mood. Does this mean you can go back to work soon?”

Greta’s face fell. “I don’t think so.”

“I just thought since you’re actually smiling-” Hal looked at Greta. “Never mind, take as much time as you need.” He picked up his fork and started eating again.

Greta felt for more movement, but didn’t feel any. She wished Hal hadn’t brought up work.

“How are you getting along during the day, when I’m at work?”

Greta pushed her food around her plate. “Oh, fine.”

“Maybe you should call Lacy. She could come keep you company.”

Greta put on a big smile. “No, I’m doing great. I just need a little more time that’s all.”

“Well, this is delicious, honey.” He shoveled a heap of tortilla and chicken into his mouth. “Really great,” he said between chews.

Greta ate another bit of Shrimpy the next morning. She mixed a slightly larger section of him into her scrambled eggs. That time, she used weenies so Hal wouldn’t ask questions. Swallowing a pile of eggs whole proved a lot more manageable. This prompted Greta to think of other foods that would go down easily.

At lunch she prepared a nice can of vegetable beef stew and at dinner they had macaroni and cheese with spam.

“Macaroni and Cheese again?” Hal asked as he plopped down in his seat. “That’s the third time this week. What happened to salsa chicken?”

“I’ve been busy.” Greta smiled as she swallowed the nearly last section of Shrimpy. “I’ll cook up something special tomorrow.”

“Good, I’m tired of this slop.” Hal spooned a pile of noodles into his mouth and shook his head. “I need more substance than this.” He chewed. “I work hard.”

“Yes, you do.” Greta winked at him. “Maybe I’ll take a cooking class over at the community college before the baby is born. I’ll call Lacy, see if she wants to join me.”

Hal wrinkled his forehead. The dirt from his day formed lines in the creases that stayed there when he relaxed the muscles. “You know we have to wait at least three months before we try again. At least that’s what happened the last two times.”

Greta shrugged. “You never know, there might be a miracle.”

Hal looked at Greta for a moment. “I’m glad you’re at least considering calling your friend. It’s not good for you to be alone.” He licked his fork. “Miracle, right.”

As Greta lay in bed that night she felt the contents of her stomach move around then settle. She couldn’t be sure, of course, but she swore she felt little Shrimpy swimming his way into her uterus. The flesh in her abdomen grew firm and her boobs ached a little. Those were sure signs.

The next morning, the last little bit of Shrimpy looked like a cherry on top of Greta’s stack of toaster waffles. Luckily, Hal had rushed out early that morning late for a 6:00 am job. He’d grabbed a piece of toast and cup of coffee, kissed her on the check, and left without a word.

Greta sat at the table and slowly cut her breakfast into cubes. She speared the section with Shrimpy.

“Last time, baby.” She popped him into her mouth and swallowed. “I can’t wait to meet you.”

The rest of the day, Greta cleaned like a madwoman. She couldn’t believe she was already nesting. She’d decided to take the pregnancy test just before Hal got home from work so she could surprise him.

After she scrubbed the toilets until they sparkled, mopped the floors so well dinner could be served on them, and polished the table until she saw her reflection, Greta decided it was time.

Hal usually returned home by 6:00 pm. The clock read 5:30, enough time to get the business done, read the results after ten minutes, then, if everything went as planned, get dressed up for the celebration.

Greta locked herself in the bathroom. Two days earlier she’d gone to the drug store and purchased a three-pack of pregnancy tests then hid them behind the toilet paper in the cupboard. She dug the box out from its hiding place and unwrapped one of the plastic sticks.

Greta took a deep breath and held the stick close to her heart. “Lord help us. This is it, Shrimpy. I did my part, I hope you did yours.”

Half an hour later, Hal walked through the front door. “Greta?” he called from the entryway. “Dinner ready?”

Greta stood at the top of the stairs and looked down at him. She wore her nicest blue dress.

Hal whistled. “What’s the occasion?”

A blush spread across Greta’s cheeks. “I thought we could go out tonight.”

Hal closed his eyes and shook his head, like he thought she might be a dream. When he opened them again, he smiled. “Are we celebrating?”

Greta slowly walked down the stairs. “It worked, Hal.” When she got to the bottom step, she kept one hand behind her back and reached out with the other to take his. “You won’t believe it.”

“What worked?”

Tears burst from Greta’s eyelids as she pulled out the pregnancy test. “Little Shrimpy, he’s back inside me.”

Hal took the test from Greta and looked at the faint pink plus sign. “What do you mean, Greta? It’s only been a week. This could be a false positive.”

Greta frowned and shook her head. “No, Hal. I can feel him. I put him back inside.”

Hal dropped Greta’s hand and went into the kitchen. He opened the freezer. “Where is it?”

“I told you.”

Hal grabbed Greta by the arms. “What do you mean?”

“I swallowed him, little-by-little, and now he’s growing again.”

Hal stood in front of the open freezer door. “Oh, Greta.”

Greta smiled as her tears made black streaks down her cheeks.

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