Before I Could Collect Myself to Congratulate Her
pack up its ovaries and flee- pulled out a whimpering dog
- an easy matter, Olga,
- find much more comfortable quarters
- multi-jurisdictional nightmare
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Before I could collect myself to congratulate her, Svetlana gave another cry and produced another baby. And then a fourth. I was stunned. Any lesser uterus, when faced with quadruplets, would pack up its ovaries and flee. But Svetlana was a contortionist, and so apparently was her womb. At that point I wouldn’t have been surprised if she pulled out a whimpering dog, or another dozen babies, but she seemed to be done. The babies were all robust and plump.
“Four boys,” I stammered.
“I told you they would be remarkable when I tricked you into impregnating me,” Svetlana said. “They must have inherited my contortionist genes, otherwise there’s no way so many of them would have fit.”
Our awkward family moment was interrupted by Heinrich’s arrival. He shouldered past the gawking volleyball players. He had John with him, and Olga, too. I hadn’t seen Svetlana’s youngest sister in years, but here she was, just in time to be an aunt. It occurred to me then that John was my children’s uncle, and I wasn’t sure how I felt about that.
John and Olga stared at their sister and her four newborn sons. Finally Olga said, “You were simply supposed to get a sample of his semen, Svetlana!” She jerked her thumb at me.
“I did!” She nodded at the infants. “How else do you think this happened?”
Olga shook her head sadly. “It’s not his genetic material we need, but the exotic chemical compound surrounding it.”
“You should have been more specific. It would have saved a good deal of discomfort. Now what am I supposed to do with all these babies?” Svetlana asked. “It won’t be an easy matter, Olga, to hide all of us under Heinrich’s shirt.”
John sniffed. “I’m sure we can find much more comfortable quarters for the infants.” He hauled Svetlana to her feet and took the children from her. She twisted and did a complicated backbend maneuver, then stood up straight, all signs of her recent pregnancy eradicated. She kissed each baby on the head and then gracefully coiled herself back into the harness on Heinrich’s chest.
“Hurry up and get a sample from him, Olga,” John said. “Then he can take the babies back to Contraria and we can get off this damn island. Xylona’s waiting at the biplane, and our scientists really need that exotic compound.”
“Wait!” I said. “You want me to take these kids home to my wife? That would be a multi-jurisdictional nightmare!” I was both American and part Indian, Svetlana was both a Contortionist and part Russian, and Fleur was as Contrarian as they come. There was precedent for adoptions such as this, to increase a warlady’s brood, but it required so much paperwork.
Meanwhile, Olga was stripping off her bikini.