A Message at the Old Barn

Hip-Hippo-Ray! It was a cute play on words. The thick piece of cardstock with a cute cartoon hippo with a yellow umbrella smiled back at Hope Owens, as it tucked sideways into the bureau mirror. At this point she wondered if there was an actual hippo growing in her. The body she had worked so hard on throughout four years of college field hockey gone as she turned to the side in a green maxi dress. She rubbed her belly. “Ready lil’ hippo?” She asked it.

Hope never thought at nearly 24 years old she would have been so careless as to be pregnant. She was in the final trimester in a small town where there was one degree of separation; someone knew someone, who knew someone. Due to this, people found it okay to invade personal boundaries and commented freely on the size of her belly or the ever-popular pregnancy glow. In fact, for the first time, Hope stared back and wondered where this glow was hiding; her hair looked shades darker from her normal sandy waves and no amount of product would shrink the overpacked suitcases below her eyes.

“Ready to go, superstar?” called a jovial voice, making Hope jump. Jordan, her boyfriend peaked stood in the doorway to her room. The mint green of his shirt rivaled the shade of his eyes and made his caramel skin tone pop.

“I thought I was alone.” Hope said. She placed her hand over her heart. She gave herself a final look and grabbed the invitation from the mirror, before joining Jordan in the doorway for a quick kiss.

Across from her room, an empty room caused a lump to form in the back of her throat. Her older sister Henley died three years ago, after going insane. Rantings of a monster with green eyes tortured her to the extent she was institutionalized. Glancing in the untouched room she could almost hear the unsolicited advice of her snarky sister. Why would you ever want a baby, it’ll be like shoving a watermelon through a keyhole. Hope chuckled to herself hearing her sister’s rant on childbirth and motherhood.

Once outside, Hope thanked the clouds for providing a reprieve from the heat. Jordan helped her into his Jeep Cherokee and turned the air on full blast. On the drive, Hope pointed at clouds debating on if it was an elephant, or…”it’s an alligator.” Jordan said, only occasionally stealing glances up.

A turn off the main road to a road less traveled, blacktop was more of a patchwork quilt. Random squares of pavement patched together to keep it from completely falling apart. The rolling green hills used to be speckled with feeding horses, but the stables slowly went out of business leaving nothing but a barn in the middle of a field.

The old barn stool tall. The metal of the roof rusted, and red wood chipped and faded from years of weather and abandonment. Today; however, Hope’s best friend Johanna transformed the shabby building into a rustic, and yet somehow safari themed event venue. The field was lined with attendees.

“Johanna text me and said that she made sure nobody parked up front.” Jordan said, as he swung into a spot at the front of the barn. A sign on a post decorated with ferns and other greenery said: ROAR-SERVED. Johanna certainly did not skimp on the puns.

The barn door was already opened, the clatter of voices carrying on multiple conversations reached Hope’s ears, before she took in the loudest sound of all: the shrills of her best friend greeting her and hugging her. She was the piece of food that all the seagulls were flocking towards. Attention was not Hope’s strong suit, but Jordan reveled and basked in it. His chest puffed and he closed his eyes and breathed in the accolades as if they smelled like sweet perfume.

Where stalls had once been, was now an open space where long banquet tables with white linens and china sat party guests. The tables were adorned with emerald and gold table runners, leaf cutouts, and animal printed napkins. The centerpieces of animal cutouts glittered under the dangling Edison lights in their simple tall vases filled with shiny quartz pebbles.

The barn also had a small raised platform where two haybale chairs sat with a backdrop filled with white, gold, green, and animal pattern balloons. Four blocks spelled “BABY” in animal print. Various plush safari animals sat on the stage. Tears filled Hope’s eyes. She could not believe that her friends and family went the length to give her a safari.

Throughout the shower, the feelings of uncertainty that plagued the young mother-to-be were replaced with the joy. The food did not give her heartburn, the cushions on the seats eased her sciatica, and Jordan kept her water glass full. It was so perfect that she did not realize the mound of gift bags with tissue paper and pastel packages with ribbons and bows. Far less bold than leopard spots.

Last, but not least, cards were to be opened. An envelope was handed to Hope. The bold ink flowed effortlessly in the most beautiful script.

“This has to be Mrs. Day.” Said Hope, beaming with delight. A middle-aged woman, with a very round face and a couple of chins blushed and smiled back. She offered a quick wave with swollen hand that may do well, if she loosened her watch band. Her old Sunday school teacher taught her so many things and offered her support in the darkest of times. Hope opened the envelope to see a basic white card, but on the inside a handwritten note. As Hope read she found herself quickly off guard, for in the beauty of the writing, fear scribbled its way into her heart.

Hope, please be weary. Henley was not insane. Jordan is Jealousy. Please keep this private. Talk to you later.