A Boy Named Eleven

A Child Named Eleven

By: Bikerider

“Honey, it time to go,” Shirley said to her husband as she shook him awake.

“Wha..huh…what?” Sam mumbled sleepily as he turned to the silhouette that was his wife. “What it is?”

“It’s time…I have to get to the hospital.” Shirley sat up and dropped her feet over the side of the bed, then stood on the cold floor.

“What time is it?” Sam said as he shrugged off the blanket and stretched. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine, but come on, we need to go.” She slipped a dress over her head. “It’s 3 O’clock in the morning, sorry hon, but it wasn’t my choice.”

Sam was fully awake now. He jumped from the bed and tugged on a pair of jeans as he slipped his bare feet into a pair of loafers. “Okay, I’ll get the suit case…it’s all packed, all I have to do is get it and put it in the car…” Shirley gently grabbed him by the shoulders and kissed his cheek.

“Easy, boy, it’s going to be okay.” She smiled and let her hands drop to her sides. “There’s no need to panic, we practiced this, remember? Now, take it slow and put the suitcase in the car.” She smiled as Sam walked into the garage holding her small, bright red suit case. She heard the muffled sound of the car door slamming, then the sound of Sam shouting.

“No, no, no!” Sam stormed into the house and began to rummage through a kitchen cabinet drawer. Items feel from the overstuffed drawer and made a pile at his feet. Shirley walked into the kitchen and he stopped and looked at her, terror filled his normally kind eyes. “I locked the keys in the car. We have to find the other set.”

“You lost the duplicate set a month ago, did you make another?” Shirley’s calm stare filled her husband’s eyes with even more terror. “Hmmmm….?”

“I meant to, I really did,” his wavering smile portrayed his fear. “I must have forgot.”

“So what is plan B?” Shirley asked as her swollen fingers tapped on the smooth, Formica counter top.

“A cab, I’ll call a cab.” He spun around in a circle and dashed for the phone. “You wait here,” he instructed his now frowning wife.

“We still have to get the suitcase out of the car.” Shirley reminded him.

Sam put down the phone without dialing and ran to the garage door and reached for the door knob.

“Later, Sam. It can wait till later. Call for the cab, please.” She watched her husband rush past her and cross the kitchen to pick up the phone. And thirty minutes later the taillights of the cab grew smaller and dimmer as it sped away from Shirley and Sam’s house.





Sam’s head rested on his chest in the warm waiting room, a shiny line of drool fell from his chin to his plaid shirt. Half empty Styrofoam cups were stacked on the table next to him.

“Mr. Jenkins?”

Sam moaned, his head swayed from side to side.

“Mr. Jenkins?” Louder this time.

Sam jerked his head up as unintelligible words slipped from his lips. Finally, rubbing his eyes with both hands, he looked around. “Yes?” He tried to focus on the nurse standing in the doorway.

“Mr. Jenkins?”

“Yes.”

“Congratulations!” She said. “You have a new son. Come with me and you can see your wife.”

Sam followed the nurse down the hall and turned into a room. Shirley was in bed, her eyes were half closed, she was having trouble focusing.

“Sam?” She said.

“Yes, hon, I’m here.” He sat on the edge of her bed. “How are you feeling?”

“Like I’ve been hit by a truck. Have you seen our son yet?”

“No, not yet,” he said. “The nurse said he’s fine.”

“Yes, he is.” Shirley yawned. “I was in labor for a long time. I’m so tired.”

“Rest, you’ve certainly earned it.”

“But the paperwork, the birth certificate. We need to name the baby.”

“You rest, I’ll take care of all of that.”

Shirley was soon deep in a sedative-induced sleep.

The nurse came in with the Birth Certificate and gave it to Sam. Later, in the cafeteria, he named his son. After giving everything back to the nurse, Sam returned to Shirley’s room, where she slept. When she woke up Sam gave her the birth certificate.

“What is this?” she asked him as her eyes opened wide.

“The birth certificate.”

“I know what that is, but the name…what is that?” Her voice rose.

“His name, what’s wrong with it?”

“It’s not a name. What have you done?”

“It was simple. He was born on November 11th, 2011. Right?” Sam stood. “He was born at 11:11 a.m., right?” Sam walked toward his wife’s bed.

“That is not a name!” She shouted.

“Wait, don’t you understand. The number 11, 11, 11, 11, 11,” Sam said in a sing-song voice.

“Eleven is not a name, it’s a number. You named your son 11?” Shirley’s hands were trembling.

“But..but..I just thought…” he stammered.

“What have you done?” Shirley was fully awake now.

“I’m sorry, I thought it would work.” He smiled at his wife who’s frown slowly curled to a smile.

“Do you realize he’ll have that name all his life? The other kids will tease him. But then, maybe that’ll make him stronger.” She reached her hand for her husband.

“It’ll be alright,” Sam said as he hugged his wife.



Word Count 920

Writer’s Cramp entry for 9/3/11.