Calisto stood in her fluffy slippers and new dressing gown
of palest blue satin looking through the glass at the tiny being she had only
recently and rather reluctantly given birth to. She had been forced to stay in
bed for a week in the hope the baby would remain contentedly within his first
home, her womb. Unfortunately, he didn’t. Damn, that house fire!
She knew she had been doing too much after the fire,
cleaning up and sorting out what could be salvaged. Moving in--hopefully very
temporarily with the in-laws—was stress enough, but she also had to tend and
calm the other kids who didn’t like being uprooted so violently from their
comfortable home. And then there was the fruitless search for a new home, one
which they could afford to rent so she wouldn’t have to see the snide
expression of her mother-in-law’s hateful face.
She never failed to say how much better off her precious
Bobby would be if he hadn’t gotten tricked into marrying her. Calisto was
almost certain it was staying with her mother-in-law that prompted the early
contractions more than all the other things combined. Either way, she had not taken care of herself
and her baby now was paying for it.
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