I was across the street jawing with my neighbor friend when we paused to watch the silver car pull to the curb a few houses beyond us. It held our attention as we watched the young woman get out, open both rear doors, unload, shut the doors, and then awkwardly maneuver with a pair of baby carriers up the steps to her house.

Karen looked at me. Once we heard the sturdy sound of the woman's front door pulled shut behind her we were free to gossip.

"I didn't even know she was preggers," she said.

"I know," I replied. "I know it was fall and winter and all, when everyone's bundled up beyond human recognition. I don't see them that often anyway, I think they use the back door a lot. But still, nine months is a long time! I never saw any hint of belly."

"Neither did I."

"Again, I don't see them much; it's not like they're very friendly."

Karen laughed. "No, they're not. Right after we moved in, I walked over to introduce myself. They looked at me like I was a dog wandering down the sidewalk--a talking dog!"

"A couple years back they had their front walk and steps repoured. I went over to admire it and compliment them. Hey guys, this looks great--those concrete guys did an awesome job. And I swear, their reply was literally something like hmph."

Karen started laughing again.

"I was like, okay, fuck you. I'm terribly sorry: I must've mistaken you all for the friendly neighbors. Don't worry, I won't make that mistake again."

"Ah ha ha ha . . . "

"You know, he's a doctor . . . "

"Really? I didn't know that."

"Yea, a really good friend of mine, Diane--they used to live the block over--she was in Med school with the dude, and they did their residency together. I mean, there's no way Diane wouldn't have mentioned, oh yea, you've got really great neighbors across the street in that yellow house. Not that Doctor Asshole has ever said a single coherent word to me."

"Really?!"

"Yea, so what I'm thinking is," I paused to peer dramatically over both my shoulders, "see, what I'm thinking is maybe he just brought a couple babies home from the hospital, you know, like carry-out Chinese."

"What?"

"Well you know how it is. Most people are dumb as rocks. Half the stuff you read in the National Enquirer is true. I thought it was the flu, but it was baby Sue--that sort of stuff. So, you know, up on the maternity wing, woman wakes up. 'Doctor Asshole, where's my baby?--I thought I was having a baby.' 'I'm sorry ma'am, turns out it was just a really big tumor. Completely benign, thank god.' Smiles. 'Have a nice day. Better luck next time.'"

"Oh, stop it!" Karen batted at me, "you're awful."

But I was on a roll, an eggroll. "Speaking of Chinese take-out, maybe he just bought the babies. Happens all the time, you don't have to be Madonna or Angelina Jolie. Hey, it was Christmas, right? 'Darling, what do you want Doctor Santa Daddy to bring you.' 'I want a baby!' 'No problemo,' starts writing out the check, payable to China. 'No, I want two babies.' 'Can do,' tears up the first check, writes a second for double the amount . . . "

"No, no! stop--you are evil, you are so funny."

A couple weeks added up into a month, and another. Spring lengthened to the point where it was well past any chance of a hint of a nip in the air. Perfect porch weather in my vernacular, before the mosquitoes started swarming. I watched and I watched. Sometimes friends would come over, grandparents would come over, they'd help the woman carry the babies from the car, and they'd sit on the porch with the babies. What finally struck me as a little odd was that the babies never outgrew their infant carriers. I had a funny thought: like California produce, probably in China they pick the babies early, before they're ripe, so they don't spoil and rot before they get to market. Fortunately, before I could relay that ghastly thought to anyone else, I had the face-saving epiphany. Oh god, that poor woman. I probably didn't see her all winter because she was laid up for many months in an ICU of the maternity wing, forced to bed, tethered by fetal monitors. Doctors do have that pull. And probably the twins were born, or taken from her body, incredibly prematurely for whatever health reasons. And that now finally home, they were truly miracle babies, little ones who wouldn't have lived more than a few hours even a decade or two before. Man, did I feel like a total jerk. Getting a couple laughs from someone else's near tragedy.

But it didn't explain why some days I would watch the woman leave the house alone, get in her car, and just drive off. With no other cars parked in front of their house. I mean, I figured there had to be some sort of an explanation.

Once the full heat of summer was upon us I was a far less frequenter of my porch. Nevertheless, there would be times on even the hottest afternoons when I'd get sick of the air conditioning and grab a soda and go lay on the porch swing. The Doctor and his wife and their babies seemed to have much fewer visitors.

One day I watched the woman come out of the house. The babies were still in their infant carriers. I watched as she strapped them both in the back seat, still backwards in the proscribed manner for infants. She shut the rear doors and was about ready to get in herself and drive away when another car came crawling down the street and stopped parallel to hers. I recognized the maroon car as one of the woman's girlfriends. The driver's window hummed down. The two chatted, and I heard the word lunch. The woman looked at her watch, nodded, and then amazingly walked into the street, around her friend's car, got in the passenger side, and they just drove off.

You're not supposed to do that, ever. The windows I could see weren't even cracked. Even with windows cracked, in this heat, an adult dog left in a car will die in five minutes. Minutes passed, and they didn't come back. I looked around the porch, then tore into the house, down the steps to the basement where I grabbed a small sledgehammer. I couldn't believe I was going to have to be a hero. I would nearly enjoy this, those fuckers. Running across the street I decided the smart thing would be to smash the windshield.

When I got to the car I glanced in the rear door window. The babies were indeed inside. Their mouths were puckered, hands frozen in the air, as though trying to squeeze any drop of moisture out of the superheated air. But they were motionless. They weren't dead; they'd never been alive. Even through the tinted glass I could see the weirdest thing in the world. The twins' skin was vinyl.