by Kate Strickland
Lydia was more a part of me than my own feet. Paul rubbed my feet every night. How could he love my feet and not love my little girl?
We had talked it over and over before he moved in.
“I love you and only you, Shell, but I’m not ready to be a dad.”
He didn’t expect me to get rid of Lydia, just to keep her in a separate cubbyhole.
But hadn’t things been better lately? He had gone with us to the park last weekend and even pushed Lydia in the swing for a little while.
I wiped the moisture from my hand onto my skirt and dialed his office number. I spoke before he could say hello.
“Paul?”
“Hey baby, what’s up?”
I could hear the pre-occupation in his voice and hesitated.
“Shell, what’s going on? I’m up to my eyeballs right now. What do you want?”
Why did he always have to use that stupid expression?
“I’m sorry Paul. But I’m in a bind at work. Rick is all over me. I cannot miss this deadline, but if Lydia is at day care later than 6:30 again this week, they won’t take her back. Please, can you just pick her up for me? Please?”
“Michelle, (my whole name this time). I’ve told you. You need to get a back up system.”
“Paul, I know that, and I will but…”
“Listen, Michelle, get your act together. Everyone makes arrangements. You need to do the same.”
1 comment:
The formatting is off, but I like this story. I hope she DID make arrangements, to get rid of Paul.
Post a Comment