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“...the companions of our childhood always possess a certain power over our minds which hardly any later friend can obtain.”
—Mary Shelley, Frankenstein
Louisville, Kentucky, 2015
All Allison wanted was for this conversation to be over. That and she hoped the heavy gray clouds would part and the sun would appear. It could go either way today—sun or rain. She stood at the kitchen window, peeling old white paint off the sill as she waited for the Kentucky sky to make up its mind. Meanwhile, sitting behind her at the table, her lover, Cooper McQueen, gently ruined her life.
Then, a small mercy—the clouds split wide open. The sun shone bright enough to momentarily blind her. She exhaled in her relief. Allison had always loved the rain. She could forgive McQueen for leaving. She would never forgive him if he’d ruined the rain for her.
“She’s pregnant,” McQueen said. “She’s due in April.”
“You’re happy about it,” Allison said, working another strip of paint off the edge of the frame. She felt a silly sort of triumph when it came off in one long white ribbon.
“Cricket,” he said softly, apologetically. “Look at me.”
Allison wanted to walk out right then, walk out and never look back. She should have, she knew. Instead, she turned around and faced him. He’d just ended it and here she was, still obeying his every command.
“I’m sorry,” he said.
“It’s
