The Baby

By: Isolde Nieves

Moving can be a blessing or a hassle. For Lilly, it was a terrible ordeal. The idea of change made her nervous — she had lived in the Bronx her whole life. Her husband, Adam, had gotten a new job, and his jumps for joy at finally leaving the Bronx seemed delusional to her.

Six months ago, in their bedroom, Adam was on his knees begging for forgiveness while Eve, his co-worker, rushed to put her clothes on. The sting of infidelity left a wound so deep that “forgiveness” became a word Lilly could only utter without compassion.

Six weeks later, Lilly and her family had settled in Derry, on Witcham Street. After meeting the neighbors, Derry seemed like a decent place.

Mrs. Sanburg, a woman in her 50s who smelled of Burberry and Marlboro, was the neighborhood librarian. Her New York accent gave Lilly the comforting reminder of home.

Then there was Mr. Nieves, an army veteran from Puerto Rico and the neighborhood’s “grandpa,” who had fallen into depression after the death of his wife. Thankfully, his granddaughter Grace looked after him. Grace’s kids were adorable but could be bratty — like most children.

Sitting on Mr. Nieves’ porch with his great-grandchildren, Gia on the left and Angel on the right, Lilly pointed with her index and middle fingers to the luminous sky, which gradually faded from red-orange to black.

“Ven a comer,” Grace called.