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I scoffed. “That other thing? That was a month ago. Okay?”
“An entire month without even texting him?”
“That’s right.”
“Do you feel proud of that?”
“Proud of what?”
“He’s the father of your baby.”
“And I told you what he said to me,” I said.
“And you’re taking one comment to heart?”
“It was a big fucking comment,” I snapped.
I spun around, grabbed the trash bag and pulled.
It wouldn’t move again.
“I’m not going to watch this,” Hannah said. “You’re going to pop your womb.”
“Don’t even say that,” I said. “Of all the things I’m thinking about, I don’t need that too.”
“What exactly are you thinking about right now?” Hannah asked.
She moved to the other side of the trash bag and began to push.
The bag finally moved.
Together we dragged the trash bag out of the spare bedroom and then carefully down the stairs, letting it bounce one step at a time.
“I’m thinking about having this baby,” I finally said. “I have no clue what I’m going to do. Where do I want to live? Here? Somewhere else? This state? My career is stuck in a rut but if they’re willing to work with me like they did when Gram was alive, then I need to shut up and deal.”
“And none of this revolves around Atlas at all?”
“Why would it?”
“Hazel.”
“Are you going to stick up for me or for him?”
We dragged the trash bag out to the front porch.
That’s where we left it.
There was a nice stack of trash bags out on the porch.
I had someone coming in the morning to pick it all up.
“What’s in all these?” Hannah asked.
“Just old stuff,” I said. “You know Gram. She saved a lot of newspapers and magazines and pieces of cloth.”
“Preparing for the end of the world, huh?”
“Something like that. I went through everything to make sure nothing important got thrown out. She had it all organized though. Major historical events put in one place, then the junk in another.”
