New York, New York
Multiple pov's
November 1st, 10:00 am
~
The prosecution called a poor first witness, if they want to win this case they'd better step up their game, because the way it's looking I might just win the case.
"Your Honor, the defense would like to call Carmen Ramirez to the witness stand."
Carmen was our house keeper. An older Mexican-American woman with a heart of pure gold. She was always there for me, especially when Alessandro wasn't or simply refused, through morning sickness to even the birth of my baby girl, Carmen was always there. I remember when she was my only friend at one point. And for that, I will always be grateful for her.
I watched as her short-medium wide body took a seat at the witness booth, her eyes casting me a sympathetic look. My lips curve into a tiny smile as my eyes finally meet those belonging to a familiar face for the first time in a while.
~
FLASHBACK
~
Hunched over the toilet for the umpteenth time this morning, the nauseous feeling in the pits of my belly grew stronger. Dry heaving as I feel the acidic bile inch slowly up the length of my esophagus, I clutch my pregnant belly wishing only for the pain to subside.
The only thing keeping the bile down were the soothing strokes of Carmen's hand stroking up and down my back. "You're ok, mija, I'm here." She said.
I can't help but to let out a sob at my current situation. Too many emotions hitting at once. I'm in pain, but I'm also sad my husband has refused to go through this part of my pregnancy with me. And though it hurts, I'm grateful for Carmen. She's like a mother to me.
Finally the bile continues it's journey up my throat and out of me. I swear the feeling of sickness is worse than actually getting it over with.
I immediately feel a weight be lifted off my shoulders as the pain subsides.
Carmen quickly gets me off the bathroom floor and begins to clean me up. I can't help but to continue sobbing in her arms as she lifts the shirt over my head to grab me a new one.
"Lift up." She gestures to my arms and I do what I am told. She pulls the new clean shirt over my head before dropping down to clean the vomit off the floor where I missed.
After she's done cleaning up the mess and washing her hands, she takes my hand pulling me back to bed. "Why are you crying, mija?"
I burst into a fit of babbling as my sobs prevent her from hearing me clearly.
"Slow down, sweetheart." She says in her ever so gentle voice. She wipes the few stray tears from my eyes with one hand as the other holds my face like a loving mother would. This calms me enough to form coherent sentences.
I sniffle a little with a little jerk in my voice. "You're so sweet, and my husband isn't, and I felt so alone up until you came along, and I just love you so much!" I cry out.
"Aww, I love you too, mija. Don't you worry your pretty little head, I'll always be here for you and you're little baby." She smiles giving my cheek a gentle stroke.
