"I wish this was over."
I knew what Rena would say. The sooner the better. A few months ago, I'd have gone her one further. I would have thought, what was the difference? When she gave birth to the baby, once it had been given away, there would always be something more to lose, a boyfriend, a home, a job, sickness, more babies, days and nights rolling over each other in an ocean that was always the same. Why hurry disaster?
But now I had seen her sitting cross-legged on her bed whispering to her belly, telling it how great the world was going to be, that there were horses and birthdays, white cats and ice cream. Even if Yvonne wouldn't be there for roller skates and the first day of school, it had to count for something. She had it now, that sweetness, that dream.
"Yeah, when it's time, you'll think it's too soon," I said.
/White Oleander, Janet Fitch
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