Rainbow
From a writing prompt I completed, on reddit:
Writing Prompt: To combat overpopulation At birth, everyone gets the right [to] bear 0.75 of a child. Together, a couple has 1.50. After the first child is born, the couple can sell the remaining 0.50 or buy another 0.50 from another couple to have a second child.
Five digits, plus two decimals. Matt and Janie had kept track of every penny.
"Is that all?" Kathy asked.
Kathy's perfect daughter - her angel, her shining star - sat at the end of the table, coloring a picture of a butterfly. Janie knew that the girl's presence was meant to manipulate her. She would really prefer that her niece be anywhere else at this very moment. But this was Kathy's house, and Janie had to play by Kathy's rules.
When Matt and Janie decided that they'd wanted a second child, they knew that their house would be the first to go. They'd bought the three-bedroom ranch in a nice suburb just before their first son was born. But their Sammy no longer needed a nursery, and in retrospect it was an unnecessary expense. Their second - another boy, hopefully - could do without, and when the time came he could take his place in his brother's room. For a little while at least.
So: they downsized to a condo on the edge of their town. It didn't have a yard, but it was near a park. It needed some work, but both Matthew and Janie knew how to use a hammer and tighten a wrench. It was safer than their last, which is what really mattered.
Next went the car. They kept the baby carrier, knowing from experience that the hospital wouldn't let them leave without one. Now that they were closer to the city, they could do without their own transportation. Both Matthew and Janie had relied on public transportation (mostly) and Uber's self-driving cars (less so) while they were in school. They could do the same again.
Third, were Matt's investments. He'd tried his hand at day trading just after graduation, and he was luckier than most. He'd picked a few winners and set aside some profits in a mutual fund. It was liquidated, and the the money joined their fund.
They'd asked for money from his family, and then hers. They'd swallowed their fear, sadness, shame, and what was left of their pride and asked from (former) friends. They'd paid off the debts that they had, reasoning that being debt-free would mitigate lingering concerns about their "fitness" as parents, and it would save them money in the long term. They'd talked to strange men, forgers, and smugglers. Some had charged them just for the privilege of a consult. Others had simply robbed them.
What was left was on the table. And as it turns out, most good, decent, law-abiding people aren't willing to sell half a child, even a theoretical one. Kathy was neither good, decent, nor law-abiding and her half-license was their only hope. Five digits and two decimals was the balance in their account. It was everything they had to offer Janie's estranged, embittered sister.
"Is that all?" Kathy said again, breaking Janie's reverie.
Janie noticed when the girl looked up. If she felt the tension in the room, it didn't register. She looked down at her drawing again, humming quietly.
No, Janie thought. No, that was not all.
Janie had a ring - their mother's wedding ring - which had been passed down in their family from mother to firstborn daughter for four generations. It had to be worth at least a couple thousand. Janie had never worn it, but kept it close. Kathy knew this and had always been jealous. Janie, the oldest, had always been the favorite; Kathy and her limp had been the "accident." Her father never let them forget it, and Kathy never did. But Kathy was a fighter: she recovered emotionally, found her own way in the world, and at the first opportunity she moved as far away from her family as she could. She couldn't believe the reversal of fortune. To Janie the ring was a keepsake; to Kathy it was validation. Something to pass along to her own daughter. A trophy to her victory.
Janie opened the clasp on her bag and placed the ring on the sheet, and slid both across the table. It would have to be enough, because she had nothing left.
Four months later Janie and Matt left her doctor's office, the sound of a child's heartbeat resonating in their ears. They would keep this secret for several months yet, but they stopped by a close friend's house to celebrate the news. They didn't go straight home. Instead, they walked in the sunset, to the grove on the hill where the children's gravestones were, to tell Sammy that he would have a brother.