CHAPTER 14
Days passed. I hadn’t done anything about the pregnancy yet, I still hadn’t made up my mind. I paid attention as everything became hypersensitive: my boobs and my nose and my bladder. I had no one to talk to about it. This was my life, of course. I rarely had anyone to talk to about anything. Funny thing about murdering your husband: you can never really make friends after that. And whoever you once had, like sweet Sally, has to be left by the wayside. Jameson had been the exception, but he was Hattie’s. There was no one I could trust, no one I’d expose anything to. Even Hattie and I were tangled up with secrets.
But now I was alone in my above-the-store apartment. So few furnishings. Everything was still in boxes, which were themselves becoming a comfort in that place. I oft
