Inessa

Brian is sitting on the couch, drinking hard liquid with a poker face when I enter the apartment with sleepy Mavin in my arms. I expected a frown, questions, curious looks seeing a baby in my arms, but I got nothing. He doesn’t even look at me when I pass the living room to get in the guest room. He sits on his couch, eyes on the ceiling to floor window, observing the night sky with deep-rooted courtesy.

All the way from the hospital to home, my heart was thumping so damn quick that I almost passed away in uneasiness. God, it is still beating fast.

In my head I keep arranging my conclusions, forming sentences. How to apply the appropriate words, lines, sentences to break the news to him is all I could think about.

I realize it’s already late. I should have finished this for the first time I went to see Molly, but I didn’t know why I held myself back from talking about this with Brian.

Particularly, I am ashamed of