Temporary Secretary

Part 78

29 November 1981

9:00am Sunday

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Things had begun to feel like a cycle, each day repeating like the last. There was some feeling of unreality as strange as your sleep schedule had gotten, quite disconcerting.

You would wake up through the night, tend to the baby, Paul's alarm would go off. He would spend his brief amount of time with her in the morning, passing her off if she had to feed. You would both slip back into sleep once he had left, after a brief parting kiss to the head or cheek, brief parting word.

Sometimes you would do some housework when you woke up for the day. You wouldn't leave the flat, no reason too. It was a hassle getting the baby warm enough, gathering her things and getting the pram ready, just for a brief outing on your own.

You felt vulnerable out in the city. It might be an irrational feeling, though. Having the pram, walking down the street. Mayfair was perfectly safe, of course, it was a very upscale area, not somewhere you would've lived if you were on your own, and you felt safe enough in your old neighbourhood before, even at night.

The days blended into one another, the sun rising and falling, not that it was daytime for long. This time of year it rose halfway to eight, and set not long after four. You would take light naps while the baby slept against you, compensating for your often interrupted sleep through the night. You might fall under at 2pm, and have it dark again once you awoke.

The baby slept in its sling as you ironed Paul's shirts, sewing up holes here and there. You had frozen meals you had made in preparation for the birth, which made it easier having dinner ready each day.

The day would feel long, but quick at the same time. The sky would go dark, and hours later, Paul would return. Tired, maybe, mind still rushing with the day's work, though a pleasant demeanour.

You were used to not having him around during the day, and truly didn't mind much. You liked being alone with your thoughts at times, and it'd never bothered you. Though, you knew if he didn't come home as per the routine, you'd begin to worry.

He'd always been good to you, that much could be said. He wasn't as attentive, less time to be, but he was sweet as he'd always been, especially now.

Though he'd never been disrespectful before, he had a filthy mind. There seemed to be a shift as of late. More of a slight reverence, seeing you with the baby. It was odd, though not unnerving. You were just used to him being filthy, that's all. It seemed almost entirely absent now.

And the baby, she was his little miracle, he'd said. Well, it had been accidental.

She was a lovely baby, she stopped looking like a piece of meat a while back. A very lovely baby, pale skin, rosy features and downturned dark eyes. She had begun to put on more weight, thankfully.

At least you did feel that innate affection for her. A fear of yours was that it wouldn't work properly, something broken within you. Even if it was in your own way, you felt that affection.

The thing about feelings, you either had them, or didn't. It was impossible to turn them on and off. If you felt nothing for it, you didn't know what you would do. To go through becoming a mother, just to feel nothing. You knew your track record with detachment, a sort of distance between yourself and others.

You would've had to fake it, but what if Paul found out? He had done it so easily. He might feel resentment towards you, not being able to understand. How could a mother not love her own child? You must really be sick.