My life is ruined yet I am taunted by hope. My boss approved my expense budget – for £30. Sarah hasn’t spoken to me since her husband yelled my name during sex - my whole name, including the middle bit. As if I would have her husband. He’s irrational. Overweight. And shit in bed.
I want to be with Stuart but he refuses to answer my calls, emails and texts. He’s chosen Berit even though she’s all wrong for him. You may think I’m jealous, but in my experience, once a drug-running hooker, always so. Her tits are massive, but has she read the classics?
She's not worthy. I owe it to him – to our former love – and the love we’ll share in the future - to get rid of her. I’ve taken a flat across the street. And a part time job to pay for two flats. It’ll be worth it.
It has to be.
I called Stuart to share our news: I’m pregnant with his baby. I heard him tell the secretary he wasn’t in. I went by his work. He snuck out the back. I called his mobile. Berit, whore du jour, answered.
“He died,” she said.
“Bitch, do I sound lucky?” I said. She hung up.
She called back from a remote location. I knew she would. Her kind always does.
She asked what I wanted. I asked what she wanted. She asked again. I repeated myself.
“I’m pregnant,” she said. “With Stuart’s child.”
I hung up. I called back. “Me too,” I said.
She hung up. She called back. “No you’re not,” she said.
“How do you know?”
“I know you,” she said. “I’ve been you.”
She hung up. She's not pregnant, but will be. Just as soon as her period is over.
But enough about her. Why is my life so difficult? All I want is a man to love me. And our unborn child, come to that - if it must.
Last week, my mother was institutionalized after finding my father in bed with a dog. I had her committed. Yesterday I discovered my worthless father is having an affair. The only thing wrong with my mother is her vision. I left her in the asylum on principle.
My brother joined the army. Two weeks later he went AWOL. In our parent’s basement. I bring him food under cover of darkness three times a week. I would never survive a women’s prison, but what can I do? He’s family. (Supposedly.) I've given until I'm empty.
Does anyone consider Seonaid? I'd end it all if I thought someone would find me in time to pump my stomach. Such anxiety beats in the heart of every single woman. Still, I feel alone.
I could be pregnant with Stuart’s child. If this were a just universe. I curse each egg that succumbs to the relentless and bloody ritual of menstruation. With these ovaries, this uterus, I'm destined to die alone.
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