Bebe
Chapter 1.
The smell of the food flowed through the house, replacing the aroma that occupied the home before. The girl, Pamela, entered the room; her hands were settled on each on both of her hips. She adjusted her apron so that it tied perfectly around her belly. She stepped closer to the pan, turning the tortilla over. After accomplishing that task, she took a seat on the wooden rocking chair in the corner of the room. She leaned back, cradling her belly in her hands.
The dim light glowing through the small window outlined her face gracefully. Letting her olive skin gleam against her chocolate eyes. Her facial features graced her body just perfectly. If you haven’t by now known Pamela was expecting.
She turned her attention to the wooden door which swung open. Pamela looked up to find her husband, David, walk in.
“David, finally!” Pamela exasperated.
“Perdon, I had some important business to take care of,” he responded.
”And what business would that be?” she said softly before standing up again. David took a seat where Pamela had been previously. He sighed, removing his cap with one hand and with the other hand brushing the saw dust from his hair.
“I found someone,” he said.
Pamela, who was chopping the tomato on the counter, turned to face her husband. Her face read confusion; she was oblivious as to what her husband was trying to explain. She turned back to face the window above the sink; letting silence occupy the room again. She waited for something more.
“To take you to America,” he finished.
Pamela turned around to face her husband again; leaning on the counter with both arms crossed. This idea did not suit her.
“Why? Why America? Why now?” she asked, the water forming in her eyes.
“Everything’s getting petrifying here, Pam. For you, for the baby, you need to go,” he said.
“I understand, yes. But what about you?” she asked, turning back around and leaning on the rim of the sink.
David stayed silent, afraid to say anything else about the situation. He was sure that Pamela was already infatuated by the fact that he for a fact would not be able to see his own son be born. The reason was just as idiotic as the situation was, but this was his wife. The woman whom he had loved for the past five years; not once in those years had he sacrificed anything for his wife. She was carrying a baby, cleaning their home, loving him unconditionally and not once had he showed her any appreciation. Now that he did have the chance to save her, she refused.
“I just can’t.” he replied.
Pamela grabbed the knife she had been using to cut the vegetables and turned around. She grabbed another tomato and began to chop it. Letting the blade bang loudly against the wooden board. Her rage was obviously increasing with the pace of her swipes. Until she finally stopped, slicing the side of her finger. Letting a small drop of blood pour out.
She turned the sink on, cleaning the blood off of her wound. She grabbed the rag that was sitting beside the cutting board and wrapped it tightly around her finger; holding some pressure against her wound.
David watched his wife cleanse her wound. After she had cured her wound she took a seat at the dining table. Letting her hands rest on her belly; sighing as well.
“David, what do you expect? For me to luggage myself across the border so that I can go live on the streets of Florida?” she retorted.
David shook his head. She was obviously not obliging to this idea, nothing would convince her. Instead of arguing he stood up from his chair to comfort his wife. At this moment, it was all he could really do.
Only again, silence befriended the room.
The dim light glowing through the small window outlined her face gracefully. Letting her olive skin gleam against her chocolate eyes. Her facial features graced her body just perfectly. If you haven’t by now known Pamela was expecting.
She turned her attention to the wooden door which swung open. Pamela looked up to find her husband, David, walk in.
“David, finally!” Pamela exasperated.
“Perdon, I had some important business to take care of,” he responded.
”And what business would that be?” she said softly before standing up again. David took a seat where Pamela had been previously. He sighed, removing his cap with one hand and with the other hand brushing the saw dust from his hair.
“I found someone,” he said.
Pamela, who was chopping the tomato on the counter, turned to face her husband. Her face read confusion; she was oblivious as to what her husband was trying to explain. She turned back to face the window above the sink; letting silence occupy the room again. She waited for something more.
“To take you to America,” he finished.
Pamela turned around to face her husband again; leaning on the counter with both arms crossed. This idea did not suit her.
“Why? Why America? Why now?” she asked, the water forming in her eyes.
“Everything’s getting petrifying here, Pam. For you, for the baby, you need to go,” he said.
“I understand, yes. But what about you?” she asked, turning back around and leaning on the rim of the sink.
David stayed silent, afraid to say anything else about the situation. He was sure that Pamela was already infatuated by the fact that he for a fact would not be able to see his own son be born. The reason was just as idiotic as the situation was, but this was his wife. The woman whom he had loved for the past five years; not once in those years had he sacrificed anything for his wife. She was carrying a baby, cleaning their home, loving him unconditionally and not once had he showed her any appreciation. Now that he did have the chance to save her, she refused.
“I just can’t.” he replied.
Pamela grabbed the knife she had been using to cut the vegetables and turned around. She grabbed another tomato and began to chop it. Letting the blade bang loudly against the wooden board. Her rage was obviously increasing with the pace of her swipes. Until she finally stopped, slicing the side of her finger. Letting a small drop of blood pour out.
She turned the sink on, cleaning the blood off of her wound. She grabbed the rag that was sitting beside the cutting board and wrapped it tightly around her finger; holding some pressure against her wound.
David watched his wife cleanse her wound. After she had cured her wound she took a seat at the dining table. Letting her hands rest on her belly; sighing as well.
“David, what do you expect? For me to luggage myself across the border so that I can go live on the streets of Florida?” she retorted.
David shook his head. She was obviously not obliging to this idea, nothing would convince her. Instead of arguing he stood up from his chair to comfort his wife. At this moment, it was all he could really do.
Only again, silence befriended the room.