Desi Wife

The way he’d looked into her eyes. No. Idiot. If anything happened… Well, he’d tire of her and then she could go whistle for a University education. If he wanted anything to happen at all. Maybe he didn’t. She punched the pillow and rolled on her back. And thought — just for a minute (what harm could it do?) of his long, hard body. Of herself, yielding. Of the long, sweet, dark, night. Impossible. ———- The next week was spent introducing my new charge to the help and showing her (I had to stop thinking of Eithne as ‘her’ if we were to convince everyone she was a lad) around. While my estate was large, it was a bit disorganized. I rather liked it that way. I had my hands in so many things that often I forgot one project for weeks at a time. About three dozen sheep grazed contentedly in one large field. Another lay fallow, waiting to be planted with barley. A creek trickled along at the bottom of a hill a few hundred yards from the main house. The trickling water lazily spun a. To a young 11-year-old girl who was recovering from sexual abuse, Bethany was the center of her universe, a simple non-threatening way for her to come slowly back to reality. To her Mother and I she was a joy to our lives and an erosion of our parental zeal, as Bethany also had another part of her life seen only by a few people. There were times I felt helpless, watching the instant that her face would contort in pain and she would scream out as if in the grip of some unseen terror or watching as exhaustion slowly engraved its scars on my wife’s young face. I felt at the time that Bethany having colic was the worst possible thing that could have happened to our family. However, compared to later events it would seem insignificant. Up to this point in her life, Bethany’s physical development had been quicker than either of her two sisters’ or with that of most children in her age group. It was if she was if she were trying to compress a lifetime into a few spans of time. I would soon.
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