MENDED WINGS... episode 16
Ella opened the door. She carried the groceries in her right hand and her bag in her left. She walked indoor, dropped the groceries in the kitchen, and dashed to her room. She turned her back to the mirror, her head turned backward to allow her stare at her reflection in the mirror. She stared at the large patch of bloodstain that stood out on the yellow skirt she wore. She hissed. How could she be having a heavy flow that defied all measure to keep it concealed, today of all days, when she had a presentation at work? Or was it the stress and anxiety she had previously that caused it? she wondered.
She removed the skirt and slid into the bathroom. She stepped out minutes after, dried her body, slipped into a brown negligee. She slumped on the bed and rolled in it, her mind filled with thoughts. Her husband of eight months had gone to a three-day conference, leaving her behind. She rubbed her face and sighed, her mind heavy with unshared thoughts.
Feeling of embarrassment that had washed over her when one of the directors, a male, called her attention to her stained skirt at work brought tears to her eyes. What would the director think of her? A woman who couldn’t manage her body perhaps. How she wished she were pregnant. She’d have had to take a break from monthly flow. Now that she wasn’t, she’d have her flow to handle.
How could she even expect to be pregnant when her husband slept with her once a while? And all the times she complained, he showed grave displeasure and further delayed the next. He wouldn’t even hear it, if she tried to bring up the issue of pregnancy. He would discard the discussion and tell her he should be the one worried, not her. She hissed.
“Pray,” something impressed on her heart. Pray about what? Would she asked God to increase her husband urge or would she pray for a miracle pregnancy? She discarded her thought. She already knew her failure to achieve conception was because of the erratic sexual meeting she had with her husband, what was there to pray about? She’d have to take actions or else nothing would change about her situation. Whatever it required her, she’d give it. If Joel refused to listen to a gentle discussion, he’d listen with a gun at his neck, she thought. She got off the bed and trotted to the kitchen.
She removed the skirt and slid into the bathroom. She stepped out minutes after, dried her body, slipped into a brown negligee. She slumped on the bed and rolled in it, her mind filled with thoughts. Her husband of eight months had gone to a three-day conference, leaving her behind. She rubbed her face and sighed, her mind heavy with unshared thoughts.
Feeling of embarrassment that had washed over her when one of the directors, a male, called her attention to her stained skirt at work brought tears to her eyes. What would the director think of her? A woman who couldn’t manage her body perhaps. How she wished she were pregnant. She’d have had to take a break from monthly flow. Now that she wasn’t, she’d have her flow to handle.
How could she even expect to be pregnant when her husband slept with her once a while? And all the times she complained, he showed grave displeasure and further delayed the next. He wouldn’t even hear it, if she tried to bring up the issue of pregnancy. He would discard the discussion and tell her he should be the one worried, not her. She hissed.
“Pray,” something impressed on her heart. Pray about what? Would she asked God to increase her husband urge or would she pray for a miracle pregnancy? She discarded her thought. She already knew her failure to achieve conception was because of the erratic sexual meeting she had with her husband, what was there to pray about? She’d have to take actions or else nothing would change about her situation. Whatever it required her, she’d give it. If Joel refused to listen to a gentle discussion, he’d listen with a gun at his neck, she thought. She got off the bed and trotted to the kitchen.
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