Baby.
Baby baby baby.
BABY BY DESMA CAPUTO 34THPARALLEL MAGAZINE ISSUE 135
Maggie stepped off the sidewalk into the motel parking lot, trying to avoid squishing elongated worms under her soaked sneakers. The walk from the doctor’s office had been cold and wet. A week into September and it was raining and cold, the sun jailed behind a thick wall of gray clouds.
2.83 miles she’d walked each way. It was easier than trying to mess with the Medicab drivers who were never on time and were always assholes and usually trying to sell crack or heroin. Once, one had even offered to drive her all the way to Albany to buy some “premium” stuff. They were all working with the dealers.
The motel was shaped like a U. Her room 104 was near the office. Close enough to hear the crazies yelling at the front desk. The cops were there at least twice a day. There was a cop car parked in the back corner right then. They were picking up Mason for sure. He’d been breaking into people’s rooms since the day he got out of jail. Pretty much everybody’d been robbed by him, but she didn’t want anyone getting the idea it’d been her who’d called the cops. She knew better. Snitches got stitches and ended up in ditches.
Besides, she had enough trouble of her own starting with the baby in her belly, and the man on the other side of the door to 104.
If it had been a nicer day, she would’ve found other places to go. Would’ve stayed in the park in front of the library and watched the people with jobs take their lunch-break. The folks coming from the hospital who looked like moving flowers in their bright scrubs.
She’d worked at the hospital a couple of years before, registering people in the ER. She’d started out well, but damn those people were mean as hell, so she’d started taking sips from her flask just to take the edge off. That went the way it usually did and back to no job she went.
She wiped the rain from her broad forehead, a 5-head she was frequently reminded, and wished for a job. Any job. If she had one, she wouldn’t have to open this door and Matt’s stupid face.
Her highest hope was that he’d be passed out on the bed, needle still stuck in his arm. It’d give her a little more time, a little more peace and quiet.
Instead, the door swung open almost hitting her in the face.
“What the fuck are you doing just standing out here?”