BluestoneReview

Two days later - the same phone rang on the kitchen wall. From my bedroom, covered in purple and pink, the fabrics of a young girl, I heard my mom’s familiar sigh. “That’s too bad. Thank you for trying.” I overheard the news and softly cried into my pillow so my brother wouldn’t hear me. I learned later that he had rescued the bunny and placed it in the box. Nobody Asked Me By Cecile Dixon I liked making out. It felt good. He was older and had a lot of experience. So he said. Then one night, it changed. I tried to stop him, but I wasn’t strong enough. When it was over, I cried. He said, “Hush. You wanted it as much as I did.” Nobody asked me, I screamed inside my head. But I didn’t say anything. It was too late for that. It didn’t surprise anyone (least of all me) when in a few months I became pregnant. Everyone assumed I’d have the baby. Nobody asked me. “When y’all get married,” my mama said. Nobody asked me. We just got married. I was fourteen, pregnant, and married. The years rushed by like muddy flood water. Got divorced. Then, for the first time I was doing what I wanted, reading books and going to school. I was learning to be somebody. I noticed that child of mine. That daughter, walking around with her head hanging down. I saw the cause of her trouble. Her belly began to swell. She was seventeen. I hoped somebody had asked her. She had the baby, another little girl, born into this world. One day, when this baby, my granddaughter, was around four months old, my daughter said, “I’m going to the store. I’ll be back in a minute.” She didn’t ask me. I didn’t see her again for eight months. She’d call from time to time, her speech all dope-slurred. I just took care of that baby girl. Nobody asked me.

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