Too Late, I'm Done Crying

de's

faster than

e lids. When I finally dragged myself up and caught my face in the little mirror on the wardrobe, I almost didn't

e I

every morning, slightly flat on the high notes. A pan clattered. The smell of fried plantain drifted under my door, an

rned over, and eve

o the kitchen she was already setting the table. Two plates. Two cups of tea. She didn't

st how I liked it. I managed half of mine before my stomach started to com

slowly. It se

o you

r father,

nds around the warm cup and watc

oing to the ho

mine. "What do yo

ic only confirmed it. I wan

coming w

Gra

old

e bus, and the hospital queues are long. You'll sta

old to sit i

ened. "But let me do this one thin

ssed together, and I could see the argument ri

ally. "And drink water. Don't let

wil

and covered my hand. "Whatever they say, yo

Gran

-

against my stomach, afraid of every sudden stop. A woman in the seat beside me noticed and offered her place. I didn't kn

p when I spoke. I filled the form with a pen that kept running dry. Name, age, address. Under marital status my

s whispering over ultrasound printouts, a man asleep on his wife's shoulder with his mou

de La

sked me to sit, asked a few questions, and then led me behind a curtain for the scan. The

ped br

black, there was a tiny flicker. Small as

r said, pointing.

b

e sides of my face and into my ears, and I laughed at the same t

whispered. "Is e

oks good so far." She tapped a few

ned. "The clin

ughly four weeks along, so the baby is still very early." She smiled over

I almost la

that I tucked carefully into my bag, beside the doctor's letter from yesterday. When she a

" she said. "You are ca

hospital holding t

-

with the scan picture in my bag and a few crumpled notes in m

I had none. Five years as a housewife had taught me how to run a home and how to smile at his mother, and nothing that the w

because I thought I w

shop, a row of women selling vegetables from plastic basins. My feet hurt. My head hurt. My own mind kept turning over the same thin

ents' deaths, through school, through every heartbreak, through my marriag

s. Companies with polished lobbies and men in suits hurrying through revolving doors. I stopped, almo

signboard, white with black lett

ED. INTERVIEWS

once. Th

or a single office dress that wasn't five years old. I had a school certificate, a head full of how to o

ong a security gua

ctor's voice. You are

t screen. I thought about my grand

the back of my hand. I tucked a loose stra

eep taking care of herself and

n the gate a