Jars

Check came today. I was canning in the kitchen when my husband came home with a bottle of rye whiskey. Didn’t say hello, just took a mason jar off the counter and poured himself a drink— left me with a cups worth of pickled green tomatoes. The baby heard the door slam and started to fuss so he went out back to listen to the radio. I poured myself a drink into one of Samantha’s baby food jars, I picked one with the label still on so he wouldn’t see. With him drinking he won’t smell it on me either. Sometimes I don’t mind these days.

The baby kept on fussing so I went into her room. Her binky had fallen out of her mouth with her face all red from crying. She’ll have an ugly cry when she’s a woman. I picked up the binky and wiped it off and dipped it in my whiskey. With some encouragement, she took it and I picked her up and sat in the rocking chair with her. We sat and rocked as she calmed down. I sipped my drink, trying not to think about my loose belly and how my church dress would never fit again. Samantha started to nod off again, but I nudged her off my shoulder and took her pacifier out for another drop of whiskey. It was nice to have some company for once.

If you liked this, you might like:

This is my tall, naked house on the prairie.

This used to be my home.

Fall

One day they’ll come and find me.

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This entry was posted in abandonment, autumn, breakups, cooking, escape, family, fiction, little girls, morality, relationships, religion, writing and tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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