Will you remember her?

It was awfully stormy in the city. The month of January raged outside.

Helen sat down on a soft cushiony bench, placed her hands on her very large round belly, and took a deep breath, followed by a slow but impatient expelling of the air from her lungs. Everything was heavy, hurting. She could not hold too much of oxygen for too long. The inward pressure of a fluid filled balloon, - also stretching prominently outwards, - beating of the heart, of the two hearts, the moves inside of her - all kept her grounded, tore her apart.

She was taking a pause from a shopping effort that she did not need to have just now. Why couldn’t she do it earlier? Why couldn’t someone else do it for her? Why wouldn’t she do without? Her frame was cracking and craving for a rest. Johnny was busy buying shoes downstairs leaving her inside a quieter area of the lingerie department. He promised to return quickly. She was acutely aware of many little discomforts in her body and wishing to be taking a nap at home. She closed her eyes.

When she opened them, her attention caught a mannequin with a bare perky torso featuring gorgeous panties by Princess Tam Tam and nothing else. It was about twenty feet away, and clearly a towering spit image of herself a year ago. It was a very fine work, realistically done with all the features of her face: eyes, eyebrows, lips, ears, and even dimples. Helen did some modeling during her university years, and her final gig was posing for this mannequin artist who found her on Model Mayhem. He had an order from Grenker for a fresh contemporary look.

The artist had apologized in advance about his otherworldliness and during the process completely retracted himself from Helen emotionally, treating her as a sheer object. They had never talked but for the courtesies. His wife was often curled up in the corner of the studio, reading, rarely smiling. Visitors would come and go: executives, their spouses, scan technicians, friends, all wearing approving looks at her figure. They could see all of her very well but did not bother to know her at all.

A similar attention was given to the molded image in the store. Shoppers would turn their heads, come check out items piled on the counter next to the doll and then take another close up look, some taking pictures. She too marveled at her once agile physique. The nostalgia made itself aware, which was not unemotional.

Could anyone recognize in Helen a model for that dummy twenty feet away? The face is mostly the same. She imitated the expression and sat still for two minutes, taking her chances to, or may be secretly in hopes of, being found out. But there was no immediate uproar except for a preschool aged boy. He would jump about, dashing from one mannequin to another. He looked at her for a moment, then again at the mannequin, then said something to his father in a language that she did not understand, pointing at her. His father quickly apologized and hushed his son away to continue their doll hunt.

It’s been awhile now, and she started to get annoyed at Johnny’s prolonged absence. She understood that it must have taken time trying things on and standing in line, but she wanted to go home now so much. She felt sick and dizzy. All of a sudden she heard a commotion.

Several well built men in suits filed in. She saw flashes of camera lights, all too familiar to her from modeling years. The shoppers turned their heads now towards the escalator from where this all was coming. Sure enough, in a few short moments the President with the first lady were making their way through the floor, greeting people, stopping for picture ops, checking out clothes, and chatting with the store manager. Helen knew that the first couple was in town but it did not cross her mind that they would conceive of visiting this department store. She felt trapped and quite agitated. That’s probably why Johnny was late: he could not get through to her, not right now, security may not have let him come up.

Too tired to stand up and walk away while feeling an increasing difficulty with keeping put, she adjusted her position for a better comfort,... and that’s when her water broke. There wasn’t much pain at the moment, just a trickle of the liquid. She immediately shouted out “Help!! My water broke! Please, help, quick, get me an ambulance! Please!” From that point on she wasn’t unnoticed any longer. She was surrounded by a dozen of helpful hands, they have arranged a cushion of pillows on the ground. One of the shoppers called herself in as a nurse and started taking pulse and asking people to keep a distance.

Helen was not herself from worries and tension, remembered very little, it all seemed completely out of control, things were done to her, she had no say from this point on. There it was, the long awaited moment. The classes that they took on how to give birth, the doula she hired (“Wish me luck, Jennifer! I will have to do it with your virtual self in my imagination.”), the doctor's’ advice - all mobilized one way or another for the action, drama, deliverance to be played out here and now. The nurse shook her head and said: “OK, girl, get ready.” She slipped her hands under Helen’s skirt and pulled down her panties.

A dozen of limelights, flashes, cameras, - from random amateurs and news channels alike, - all were dashing between the first couple and Helen until the President realized that something equally important was going on and came to satisfy his curiosity. The sight of a person giving birth was rather amusing. The onlookers created a respectable space for the nation’s head. He glanced at the action, understood what was going on, and turned shouting to his wife: “Darling, come here, dear, take a look. Lovely! It is so great to see so much support from everyone for this fine lady. So many skillful hands! That’s great. God bless you all!” The first lady smiled and stood by her husband.

Helen heard those words, she felt the crowd around her, she knew that she was being watched by hundreds of eyes present immediately here and perhaps many millions or billions more as people tune in to the media outlets for their dose of daily entertainment. Being a spotlight concerned her very little, however. Her first worry was whether or not this process goes on without any complications and ambulance arrives on time to take care of the mother’s and baby’s well being. Secondly, she felt upset that Johnny could not be by her side.

“Easy, easy, relax,.. now... Push! Push! Breathe, breathe.. Push, girl, push!” a confident voice of the nurse resonated inside of Helen’s head. It felt as if a huge knife went between her legs and started tearing her apart from the inside. The pain was excruciating.

“Beautiful! We are with you, dear lady, we are with you. I’ve never personally seen anything like this before, never. Giving a birth on a road or a department store, just like that in the middle of us all. It’s great. I feel like this woman right here is giving a birth to our new nation, new direction. Let her and her baby be known to all Americans, it is our charm to witness this new beginning, let them not be strangers to us all. Oh, no, they won’t be. Where is the ambulance? I hope that it arrives very soon. Security, please, make sure that the medics are allowed in without any delay. We need to do this right. Gosh, I feel for her.”

The President went on to his telephone, typing something up. In the next instance he raised his head and noticed the mannequin. He looked at it for awhile then looked again at Helen, then again at the mannequin. He whispered something to his wife who also took a comparative look. She shrugged. The President: “I say that here’s a curious coincidence. This doll right there looks very like this fine lady. If we did not spontaneously just now decide to visit here, I’d say that this was all staged by the press.” Chatters and laughter were heard among the journalists. “The ambulance is here. Good. I think that this all will be fine now. George, please, find out her name for me, take down her address, I would like to follow up.... Oh, see, here is the baby! Thank you everybody, what a day! ”

What a day indeed. Helen was lying on her back, exhausted but happy. A nice healthy baby girl was screaming her lungs out to the crowd’s cheers and delight. Johnny was here now, holding his daughter. Half an hour ago she was shopping, some minutes ago she was still unknown, unrecognized, but now all the country, the world, the intelligent part of the universe, and probably the posterity were having a pleasure of welcoming her family to their tight attention span, at least for a few precious moments. She was a stranger no longer.