I go to bed to take a nap, something I rarely do. I guess it’s the pregnancy. I can’t sleep, though. I just let my hands drift over my belly, imagining what he or she will look like. Will she have my freckles? Carlo’s blue-green eyes? Will he like to cook or paint?
Will he be an asshole, like his dad, or a lunatic, like his mom?
An hour or so drifts by. I head to the studio. I haven’t been in here yet because it’d be like admitting I’m thankful for this little show of humanity. But I’ve gone too long without painting.
I set up my easel and mix my paints and lose myself in the process. It’s almost like the swirling of the mixing paints is hypnotizing me. Enough so that time passes without me even realizing it.
I look up when he walks into the room. He stands with his hands behind his ba
