Paper Widow
Eileen Sheehan, Ailene Frances, E.F. Sheehan
She reached Elise just as she was bringing her head out of the bush she used to disguise her vomiting.
“How often are ya spewing up?” Sara asked.
“Every morning,” Elise said in a weakened voice. “Sometimes several times a day. It’s getting worse.”
“It will do for a while and then it’ll ease up,” Sara explained. “We heard ya was untouched.”
“It’s nice to hear people talk about my private doings in such a way,” Elise said sarcastically.
“They ain’t so private if you’re carrying a child who don’t belong to the man ya married,” Sara said with an equally sarcastic tone. “Unless he came back from the dead to mount ya.”
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