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breathtest
09-19-2010, 02:03 PM
Sharing a Kid

What do people do? She wondered. People who live alone, with all this time on their hands? What do they do?
She sat in front of the television with a magazine in her lap, flicking through the pages. The television was on mute, the flickering images she liked because they kept her company when she was in the house alone. She occasionally cocked her ear to listen to see if she could hear her baby crying, but then she’d realise that she didn’t have him today, that Jack had him for the weekend. Jack had baby Benjamin for the weekend.
She ran a bath and took off her clothes and while the water was running she looked at her figure in the mirror, at the slightly sagging breasts that were still okay, at the bags under the eyes from too much lack of sleep looking after a child, at the stretch marks, at the sharp-boned shoulders and hips, too skinny. She looked at her legs which she thought of as the one pride of her body. Her tender yet strong thighs that were unblemished and smooth, the knee bone which did not stick out too much but was just visible amongst the flesh, and the shinbones that were sleek and also unblemished, and even the feet, perfectly aligned toes, toenails painted red. She looked at her hair which was thin and straggly.
She turned around and looked over her shoulder at herself and saw the toned a** beginning to sag also, and the spine beginning to show. Maybe she was too skinny. She worried about that.
She wandered around the house for a moment because she liked being alone and being naked, and it seemed to turn her on a little. Then she got in the bath and let the water slide over her imperfect body and her perfect legs and feet and lay there for half an hour soaking and thinking. The steam rose and curled to the ceiling and she breathed it in and the air was hot in her nostrils and mouth and made her light headed. She put more cold in, felt the cold stream of water with her toes and then switched the cold off. She put her head under the water, blowing bubbles to the surface, then came up and swept her hair out of her eyes. Her hair looked good when it was wet.
Kids were going by out the front of the house. One was bouncing a ball and they were talking loudly and their voices came in through the window but she couldn’t hear what they were saying.
She got out of the tub, towelled off, and wandered around the house naked for a little longer.
She got changed into the same clothes and wandered around the house, looking at things. She sat on the couch and stared at the wall.
The bar was down the street, not far to walk from the house. It was cool and dark inside and music was playing. She went in and sat at the bar, ordered a drink and waited. When the drink came she told him to make a tab for her because she’d be here a while. She looked around and the bar was very empty. There was a miserable middle aged couple watching her from one of the tables, and there was a fat man at another table, observing a beer mat, with a beer on the table surface in front of him.
Looking at her drink, she held it with both of her hands and then drank some and placed it back down.
We drink alcohol because we don’t know what else to do, she thought. It’s something that we learn is okay from our parents and then even when we don’t really want it we drink it. We drink it until we always want it.
The barman didn’t try to make conversation with her, even though most of them usually did. He stood at the other end of the bar, one hand resting on the bar, looking out at the tables and the people sitting there.
She was on her second drink when a man she hadn’t even realised had come in approached her. He was younger than she, and he wore spectacles.
Can I buy you a drink, he said.
I have a drink.
Well, after that one are you gonna have another?
I guess I might, but I haven’t decided yet.
Well I’m gonna sit here right beside you if you don’t mind, and you can let me know if you want another.
Okay, she said.
So what’s your name?
She told him her name.
He said his was Michael.
She acted like she wasn’t very interested.
Are you going out somewhere after this, he said. Are you meeting someone?
He was looking at the way she was dressed.
I might be, she said.
She had on a black dress that stopped halfway down her thighs, and black heels which showed off her feet, and mascara and rouge and hair tied back in a concealing twist and clipped up against her head so that it looked nice. She’d painted her nails red to match her toes.
She took a drink.
I think I’m going to have another, she said.
He smiled.
What are you drinking?
Scotch with water, she said.
He ordered a scotch with water and a scotch on the rocks and when the drinks came they both took a drink and then he looked at her. She looked at him in the mirror at the back of the bar so he didn’t know she was looking at him.
Do you have a boyfriend, he said. Or a husband?
No.
Who are you waiting for then?
I didn’t say anything, she said.
So you’re not waiting for anybody. It’s just, you’re dressed up nicely and I thought you’d be going somewhere.
I dressed up nice because it’s my day off.
What do you do? For a job, I mean.
She smiled and looked at him.
What do you do? She said.
I’m a wedding singer, believe it or not.
She didn’t want to hear him sing. Maybe he was expecting her to ask him to sing something.
I don’t want you to sing to me, she said.
He laughed. I wasn’t going to.
I bet you were.
I wasn’t.
She took a drink and looked away from him.
The music was still playing and it seemed to have gotten louder. She looked around the bar again and more people were in now, like they’d sneaked in when she wasn’t looking, or when she watching Michael in the bar mirror.
Can you pay for my tab for me, she said. I had two drinks before you came in.
Sure, he said.
He called the barman over and said he’d like to pay for her tab and the barman took his money and went to the till and rung up the prices and gave Michael the change.
And can I get another round here please, Michael said and the barman took the change out of his hand and rung up the prices and turned around with even less change and gave Michael the change and then set about making the drinks.
Do you make a lot of money singing, she said.
I guess so, he said. Enough, anyway. I also buy and sell things, and I make quite a bit of money at that. Supplementary, you know. My main income is from singing.
Are you a good singer, she said.
I guess I have to be.
Don’t sing though.
I wasn’t going to.
Well don’t.
Okay.
They had their new drinks. She downed the rest of her old one and then started on the new one.
You’re a drinker aren’t you, he said.
What do you mean?
You like to drink.
I haven’t drunk alcohol for three weeks, she said.
You get through it quickly.
I didn’t notice.
He downed the rest of his old one and started on the new one, to keep up with her.
Do you actually have a boyfriend or a husband, he said.
No. why did you ask me that again?
A lot of women say they don’t when they do. I don’t know, you just look like the type who would have a boyfriend or a husband.
What type is that?
I don’t know.
Go on.
He told her what type.
Well that’s nice, she said. You really think that?
Yes.
That’s nice.
She unlocked the door to let them in and he was kissing her straight away. She closed the door and his hand went up her dress and pulled her pants down. She stepped out of them and left them lying in the hallway. They went into the sitting room and started to get undressed. She heard his belt buckle in the dark and then she hiked her dress up over her hips and sat on the couch with her legs open waiting for him and in the dark she could see him approaching her.
He was quick and breathing heavily and he grunted and breathed alcohol breath in her face and she in his and she moaned with him.
When they were done he sat beside her on the couch and they were getting their breath back and she could feel his seed running down the inside of her thigh.
She got up to take a p*** and she sat on the toilet listening to the urine trickle into the water and thinking of her Benjamin. Thinking of Jack holding Benjamin and Benjamin smiling.
They had sex again, this time in her bed with her on top. They were both heavily drunk and didn’t speak afterwards. It was too hot to use the bedcovers.
Michael got up and stood naked by the window smoking a cigarette and looking out.
He left the room and went downstairs and she could hear him putting his clothes on. She could hear the belt buckle again rattling in the darkness while she lay there on the bed.
He left quickly without saying anything to her, without coming back into the room. She was glad, but she was also saddened by it, and she kept on laying there naked above the covers and eventually she fell asleep.
She woke up in exactly the same position and she was cold. She climbed under the covers and went back to sleep.
She had a hangover the morning and she stayed in bed most of the day, getting up only to get a glass of water and to go to the toilet. And she thought of Benjamin a lot. She wanted him back but she felt ashamed.
She cried a little and she slept.
Not knowing why she felt ashamed, she cried and slept.
She got up in the evening, had coffee, had a shower and shaved her legs and brushed her teeth. She vacuumed and cleaned the house a little, something to take her mind.
The television stayed on this time with the volume on full, even when she was in another room. She went to bed early.
The next day she waited.
Awake early, showered and dressed. Drinking cup after cup of tea, she sat at the kitchen table and waited and listened to the clock ticking on the wall and thinking how she never knew that that clocked made a ticking sound, she’d never listened to it before, never heard it, never cared to.
Now she listened, and looked out the window into the small garden and waited.
At four thirty the knock came. She answered the door.
Here he is, said Jack.
Benjamin in his arms was wearing a funny little hat and a funny puffy blue jacket and he looked funny. He was asleep in his funny clothes with his head against dads shoulder.
Oh my boy, she said and she took Benjamin from Jack and held him. She took him into the living room and Jack followed.
How was he, she said.
Fine. He’s a very quiet kid, isn’t he? Takes after his mother, don’t you think?
She was on the couch with him staring at his face and watching him breathe.
He cried sometimes, but not much, Jack said.
He sat down beside her on the couch, putting the bag of baby stuff on the floor at his feet, and stroked his beard and looked for words on the ceiling and she noticed he was sitting in the place where she’d been f***** the night before and she looked away and was ashamed.
How have you been, he said.
Good.
He waited a moment and stroked his beard and then stood up.
Well, I better get going.
Okay. She looked at him and smiled.
I’ll see you later. Next week. I’ll pick him up the same time?
Okay.
He touched Benjamin’s cheek with his finger and then left.
She took off his funny jacket and his funny hat and kissed his forehead and felt his forehead with her hand and he felt warm and his face was red with warmth.
When she put him in his cot she stared at him and cried and stared at him and felt ashamed and remembered Michael and how he’d left and how she’d felt ashamed and how she’d cried.
She unpacked the bag of baby stuff and put the bag beneath the couch.
She sat on the couch, knowing that Benjamin would wake for food and for changing, knowing that she’d have to look into his eyes.

hillwalker
09-19-2010, 05:27 PM
I always look forward to reading your new stories and this is incedibly good

- a stinging indictment on how we often judge people who live this kind of life by choice or necessity. The reader ends up sharing her shame yet we don't understand what she has done to be ashamed of any more than she does - other than she is living the life she can under the circumstancs - the answer to that opening line.

The style is very effective - every short paragraph almost like a countdown of the hours she has to kill while her son is with his father. And the fact that every thing she does bears the same weight by virtue of the style makes sure we are not invited to judge one facet of her behaviour more harshly than another.

H

Delta40
09-19-2010, 06:24 PM
good mothers don't bonk strangers on the weekend their baby is with Daddy. Its the crossroads of being a madonna in one role and a whore in another. very hard for her to bear indeed. great piece of writing

hillwalker
09-19-2010, 07:33 PM
good mothers don't bonk strangers on the weekend their baby is with Daddy.

Perhaps in the 'Being a Good Mother' handbook they don't - but in the real world where they are tied to a child they love 24/7, who can blame them taking out a little me-time when absent daddy takes over for one weekend? They blame themselves enough without having society condemn them.

H

Buh4Bee
09-19-2010, 08:56 PM
This must be a new breakup. In the beginning, she wonders what single people do with all this time. It seems that she is not used to living this way. I suppose that may be part of the shame. But the author can share his thoughts about this, if he feels compelled.

I thought this was very good. Quite a human study.

Delta40
09-19-2010, 11:15 PM
Perhaps in the 'Being a Good Mother' handbook they don't - but in the real world where they are tied to a child they love 24/7, who can blame them taking out a little me-time when absent daddy takes over for one weekend? They blame themselves enough without having society condemn them.

H

Oh I agree but as a sole parent - I know the judgment passed upon the women who left or got left by their partners holding the baby - they failed, they failed society because they didn't try hard enough to make it work and they failed themselves - they failed their child. Its a silent judgment imposed by the self and society.

breathtest
09-20-2010, 08:58 AM
I always look forward to reading your new stories and this is incedibly good

thank you immensely Hillwalker. i've never had someone look forward to reading what i've written before.



This must be a new breakup. In the beginning, she wonders what single people do with all this time. It seems that she is not used to living this way. I suppose that may be part of the shame. But the author can share his thoughts about this, if he feels compelled.

I thought this was very good. Quite a human study.

thanks jersea. yes i tried to show the main character as indecisive and unsure about how to pass the time to show that it is a new breakup. she is not used to being single and to being alone. she is scared of the loneliness, so she has the television on constantly.


good mothers don't bonk strangers on the weekend their baby is with Daddy. Its the crossroads of being a madonna in one role and a whore in another. very hard for her to bear indeed. great piece of writing


Delta40 - you got it exactly, thanks for reading and commenting.


i was a little bothered about doing the main character justice as i am not a female, but i hope i did okay. ;)

Steven Hunley
09-20-2010, 02:53 PM
I may be wrong, but have the opinion that writers who are men often have little insight into women's minds and situations. This piece doesn't show that however. It tells the story, shows insight and doesn't judge, only lays the cards on the table for the reader to read and interpret. Well told, not one word wasted, and does so much with so little. As usual with your stuff, it was a pleasure to read. Thanks.

breathtest
09-21-2010, 09:28 AM
no, thank you Steven, it's a pleasure to have you read my work.

alcala0001
09-21-2010, 11:22 AM
I like how you don't shy away from the gritty, seedy reality. The whole thing has an intimate and voyeuristic feel, like you're peeping in on somebody during a very private moment. It was a very good read.

breathtest
09-23-2010, 08:05 AM
alcala - thanks. voyeurism is quite a common theme in my stories.

Beautifull
09-23-2010, 12:40 PM
Hha. Finally got around to reading it. I always enjoy your unique approach in a story, and this one's no different. I love how this story has a...how would you say it... anonymous woman figure in it. The men are named and described, but only the woman's features are mentioned. Might I ask, was it hard doing a whole story from the woman's point of view?

breathtest
09-24-2010, 05:08 AM
hey Beautifull, thanks for reading it and commenting. yes i was pretty worried about writing the woman accurately, but having said that, as long as i've achieved what i hoped, it wasn't as hard as i thought it would be.

Beautifull
09-24-2010, 10:59 AM
hey Beautifull, thanks for reading it and commenting. yes i was pretty worried about writing the woman accurately, but having said that, as long as i've achieved what i hoped, it wasn't as hard as i thought it would be.

Sounds like you had fun writing, so I'm glad. Most people say, oh it was so hard, and I hated writing this part, etc.
Well if it's your story, I think you should have a little fun writing it, no? ;)

breathtest
09-29-2010, 08:55 AM
exactly. it's all fun all the time, i think.

Beautifull
09-29-2010, 11:57 AM
Yes! I agree! That's why I stop when I get frustrated, because then it's no fun.