with child
fiction
edward w pritchard
You sit around a small economical fire in the desert with your Bedouin friends and she walks up and hands you your tea cup and disappears to be with her Mother and sisters. It's about the last time you want to see your pals.
Over the next year you can't see her enough.
Later she tells you she is with child.
You never can quite find the right words. Sitting on your hands you try to make her comfortable.
A dozen years later looking in the rear view mirror as you drive the family about you notice the boy
in the back seat for the first time and look across at her and smile.
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