'while i'm sick, i'm no monster,' said the wife.
they are at the kitchen table. they are waiting for a relative to come. they will meet them at the top stair and watch the children go. the adults will know, but act joyous. laugh, smile, ask of the day, the relative, the brother in law will want to strangle him. the brother in law, blonde, six feet eight inches coiled and ready to attack. he will look for a sign in her eyes. he will look and see nothing feeling a break in his heart. when he gets home, when the children are consumed with dinner or playtime with their cousins, he will sneak away and finds things to squeeze, to hit and to break.
they will sit on the porch rail after the waving is done. they will sit until the car is gone past the horizon lines and she will strike. she will slap the face. she will slap the face. she will punch the chest. she will not scream, she does not want to wake her. she will curse and spit. she will slap the face. finally, with tear and heavy breath she will want to know all.
he has been quiet. he has been wiping tears. he has been filled with the wrecking ball watching it flash and destroy everything inside him. he will imagine the emptiness of the one room apartment that she will cast him to. he will be alone, trapped by mistake to a life aborted.
'i don't want to tell,' he will whisper.
'____ you.' she will say.
there is silence as she paces, as she pauses, as she cries thumps her breast and attacks. the absorbing machine, he will take it all. he does not want to talk, to reveal, to remember and to support that it happened.
he does not want to give word, breath and life to that night. he wants to forget. she is laying on the coach. she is so young. she has pulled a pillow to her chest. she has on track pants and a highschool sweatshirt. she has on all white sneakers. she has on little make up so you can see her age plain.
he does not want to give this life.
his wife is holding her chin. she is pale and looking down. he follows her gaze. it is a duffel bag. it is a green duffel bag. it has the logo of the school with a picture of the mascot. there is a side pocket. there is no zipper on the side. no security and no protection, so that the pocket lay loose open like a drunks mouth. hanging from those lips is a thin plastic white stick. from here it is obvious. from here he can see and lose his breath. from here he watches his wife tilt her head towards the roof, tear stained cheeks mouth agape calling for voice but hearing nothing.
two purple lines. pregnant.
there is an earthquake inside buildings shaken windows blown power lines going down. his wife begins down the stairs, begins walking down the street leading north. he begins walking down the stairs, down the street heading north. he is behind her, he will not catch up, will not know how long they are going to go. it is sunset.
when they are out of sight, she stirs, she awakens. once again she finds herself alone.
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