Corey and I had been together almost four years. The pregnancy wasn’t planned, but when I saw those two lines, some frightened part of me believed we’d figure it out together.
Corey didn’t.
When I told him I was keeping the baby, he stared at me across our kitchen and said, “I can’t do this.”
Three days later, half his clothes were gone.
Within a month, so was he.
The mortgage had always been manageable with two incomes. On mine alone, it became a monthly emergency.
Then pregnancy complications forced me to cut my hours.
I paid what I could and postponed what I couldn’t. Electricity first. Groceries next. Doctor bills somewhere after that. The mortgage got later and later.
By August, I woke up every morning feeling like I was waiting for something to collapse.
That Tuesday, it finally did.
After the bank called, the house felt too small to breathe in.
I went outside to collect the mail.
The heat hit me immediately.
Across the lawn, my neighbor, Mrs. Whitcomb, was pushing an ancient mower through grass nearly high enough to cover her shoes.
Beatrice Whitcomb was eighty-two and had lived next door longer than I’d been alive. Her husband, Frank, had died the previous winter.
Before that, they were always together.
Frank watered the flowers. Bea sat on the porch and corrected him.
Frank brought her coffee. Bea complained he’d used too much cream, then drank every drop.
After he died, her porch became much quieter.
That afternoon, she was bent behind the mower with both hands gripping the handle.
I could see her breathing heavily from my driveway.
“Mrs. Whitcomb?”
She looked up.
“Hello, sweetheart.”
The mower coughed and died.
She leaned against it.
“You okay?”
“Oh, I’m fine. This stupid machine is being dramatic.”
I wasn’t convinced.
She wiped her forehead with the back of her hand.
“The neighborhood association sent another notice. Apparently my grass is becoming a threat to civilization.”
Normally, I would’ve laughed.
Instead, I looked at her face.
It was too red.
“Sit down.”
She waved me away. “You are about to have a baby.”
