Mother

It was July first, 1945. It was blistering hot outside and there wasn’t much relief indoors either, The asphalt send steam and gas into the air and made the frogs and crickets scream. Maryanne was a middle-aged woman in the rural south. She was very poor on account of the market at the moment. She didn’t have much, just an old shack, a good for nothing man, and a brand-new baby girl.

Maryanne was worrying herself into a sweat. “Where is James? I havent heard a word from him in a while. I wonder where he’s at.” Speak of the devil and he shall apear; James comes stumbling through the door, tie hanging loosely around his neck. He belches “Hey Mary”. “Long time no see,” Maryanne responds “where have you been?”  “Out”. This is what he always says. Out. “Who were you with?” says Maryanne. “friends...” says James.

 This is what he always says. And Maryanne always believes him. But not because she's stupid, but because she has a daughter with James. “Lilly is probably hungry. Do you want to feed her?” “Hell naw, Im tired” he stumbles into their humble abode and passes out on the couch with his mouth open. Maryanne picks up a crying Lilly and takes her outside onto the porch. There was no breeze. Lilly suckles on her mothers teat as she stares off into the endless sea of dust. 

James was decent when he wasn’t drinking. He’d sometimes make sweet tea or change the baby. But that’s very seldom, because hes usually drinking. He even drinks at work. “if he wasn’t bringing in the bread,” Maryanne thought. “i wouldn’t even put up with him.” And she tells herself that. Over and over and over. And so the cycle continues. And Maryanne goes about her life as if id doesn’t phase her. For the sake of her baby.