a one paragraph summary: Helen had a botched abortion and afterwards was unable to find a husband because everyone in the small town where she lived knew her uncomfortable past. She ended up marrying the “dumb brother” of a wealthy family. They lived in an expensive house filled with modern furniture, void of joy or the sound of children. Helen and her husband, Fred, smoked. They filled ashtrays with their fashionable string of cigarettes. The house was on a hill, near a vast green area and the elegant town park. The landscaped garden in front of the house announced their wealthy lifestyle.

a full scene. Helen was a bitch. This was family lore, but certainly, Helen was regal, removed and brusque, especially with the children. The house was immaculate and pristine. She and Fred, my grandfather's brother, had modern furniture and a manicured lawn that dazzled us as children. There was a lawn jockey near the steps that always fascinated us as children. I had never seen one up until then and have never seen one since. It was the figure of a small black man dressed for a horse race. What it represented had always escaped me until I was older, and its racist origins occurred to me it. Helen had short, curly blond hair, probably a permanent. She was thin and wore capri pants and a clingy sweater. The cigarette smoking gave her lithe, well-groomed figure outward toughness and made her voice gravelly. Small ashtrays with beanbag bottoms that I liked to touch, were scattered on glass corner tables. No matter how much Fred and Helen smoked, the ashtrays were always clean. Surely that had a cleaning woman daily, they were wealthy enough for that.

a slo-o-o-ed down version of the scene

Helen lay down on the bed staring up at the white ceiling. She had paid extra for a sedative strong enough to make her sleep. It was only then that she had thought that she might have kept the baby. Helen would walk down Main Street. There would be no capital letter A sewn on her dress. She would hold the tiny baby in her arms, the umbilical cord still attaching mother and child. The infant would jump up and run ahead of her with the umbilical cord between them. Helen watched each graceful step, as the child distanced itself further and further from her. The babe became smaller and smaller the further it was from her sight. Helen reached out her hand to the now minute figure, escaping her view. The umbilical cord stretched and meandered across the elegant park and wound through the vast green woods, one block away from her future home. When Helen woke up, after the operation groggy, nauseated, sore and alone, the baby was gone.