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NOSEY BITCH
PRESENT
“Itold Miley.”
The girls are running around in our backyard as I watch from the porch. The sun is hiding behind some clouds, but I love how cool it is after having several scorching days in a row. Penny yells at Jilly not to throw rocks at her and I learned a long time ago that I don’t always have to step in and save them from each other.
“What did you tell her?” Abraham asks, his voice so clear in my ear that I envision what it would be like to have him here with me, watching the girls play. Staring at me in that way of his whenever he isn’t keeping an eye on them.
“Everything,” I rush out, leaning against the wooden railing, catching my reflection in the sliding doors. “She knows everything.”
He sighs, and I hear the squeals of excitement behind me as the sprinklers come on. I love when they’re like this, getting along so well. It reminds me of my sister and I, growing up.
It wasn’t until we were much older that we started talking shit to each other. And even then, that phase of our relationship didn’t last very long.
“Part of me is worried about her opinion. But the larger part of me is happy someone knows,” he tells me, taking me by surprise.
“For someone who doesn’t give a shit what people think…”
“It’s different.Youcare what she thinks,” he says, pausing before he continues. “It’s important that you have support.”
I think about his words, about his actions. About what the years have been like with Peter and without him. I’ve had support. And maybe I don’t have Peter’s anymore since our blow up yesterday, but my village is strong. I made sure of it, if only for my babies.
I know what it’s like to grow up without a village; to be at the mercy of what happens behind closed doors.
“When am I going to see you again?” he asks, cutting through my thoughts with little effort. And the way he asks…it reminds me of our thirdfirstkiss. Of his hands on my face that roamed to my shoulders and traveled downward until he was binding me to him by my waist.
It reminds me of the sex we’ve had, back before my body knew what it was like to carry one child, let alone two.
I’m not the same as I once was.
Motherhood is a battle. And I wear the silvery scars across my soft stomach; my nipples tough from nourishing my babies.
This isn’t the same body he once loved to lust after.
Before I can answer, my Jilly lets out a loud shriek and I turn to watch her take off across the yard, Penny not far behind her. When she leaps into my sister’s arms, I quickly tell Abraham I’ll have to call him back before I hang up.
Jilly is in her arms as she approaches me, her auburn hair picking up the bits of sun that’s started peeking through the clouds. Her skin is fairer, and her body is smaller and shorter than mine.
I look like my mother. It’s something I can’t escape.
And because I don’t have many memories of her father, I have to guess that she looks like him. More Irish than any Greek I’ve ever met.
“What are you up to? Aside from dodging my calls,” she says, grinning as she walks up the steps, toward me.
“So, you just show up?” I tease, grabbing my girl from her.
“Wonder where I picked up that trick,” she mumbles, leaning down to smack a kiss on Penny’s cheek. “You girls go inside and get a snack. I need to borrow your dear mother for a moment.”
“Ohhh,” Jilly says, her big eyes peering up at her aunt. “Candy?”
Before I can answer, Penny speaks, her face scrunched together like she can’t believe her little sister’s suggestion.
“Candy isn’t a snack.”
“Is too,” Jillian insists, stamping her foot.
“Is n—”
