Sunday, January 11, 2015
She is sick. The weight of her body is more than she can lift when the waves of nausea force her up and out of bed. The sickness comes on hard, like a freight train, and runs through her. But she has to get up, go to work, get the baby fed, off to daycare. She needs help. There are men, but they want more than she cares to offer. She considers her situation. Another wave breaks over her and she has to hold her hair off to the side as the sickness leaves her. She is kneeling in the bathroom. The baby begins to cry. She needs to do what a mother has to do. The kitchen needs attention. The dog is hungry. Work has piled up on her desk. Necessities have gathered and allied against her. Although she would rather not, she picks up her phone and locates his number in the directory. I need you to come over she says.