Chapter 4C
onnie bites down on the hard details of last night, trapping the bile in her throat.
After Vince stormed out, she had stayed on the floor, imagining the baby flailing in the suddenly sour amniotic fluid. She rubbed her belly as if she could erase the bitter memory before it settled in the tender folds of her infant’s brain.
“Mama, get up! Please, please get up…” Wide-eyed and trembling, Anna hovered in the doorway, a rosary clutched in her hands.
Limbs numb, Connie stumbled upright. Anna bolted, sobbing, into her mother’s arms.
“Ssssh, sssh. It’s okay. I’m okay.”
But she’s seen Anna flinch when a door slams, a car roars down the block; how she ducks upstairs when Vince rehearses dark dramas, even though Connie has reassured her it’s pretend. Well, she couldn’t this time.
