My hand is on the door handle when my cell vibrates in my jacket pocket. I\u00c2\u00a0 exhale deeply, look up towards the large brown building in front of me, and release the grip on the handle. It\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s Anthony; he\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s worried. But what if it\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s not him? I don\u00e2\u20ac\u2122t usually sneak off without telling him where I\u00e2\u20ac\u2122m going. Maybe he didn\u00e2\u20ac\u2122t notice I was gone. I sink back into my seat and pull out the phone. Home<\/em> shines in comforting green letters across the screen. I\u00e2\u20ac\u2122m relieved, but I quickly press the ignore button. Before I have time to put the phone back in my pocket, it\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s vibrating again.<\/p>\n \u00e2\u20ac\u0153Hello?\u00e2\u20ac\u009d<\/p>\n \u00e2\u20ac\u0153It\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s me,\u00e2\u20ac\u009d the familiar male voice says on the other end. \u00e2\u20ac\u0153How much longer will you be?\u00e2\u20ac\u009d Anthony asks.<\/p>\n \u00e2\u20ac\u0153Why? What\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s wrong?\u00e2\u20ac\u009d I hear Melissa crying in the background.<\/p>\n \u00e2\u20ac\u0153Her fever has spiked again. I think she may need to go back to the hospital. Do you want to meet me there?\u00e2\u20ac\u009d His voice is almost drowned out by Melissa\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s cries. I take the phone away from my ear for a moment, my eyes fixed on the building in front of me. It\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s too late to change my mind; I\u00e2\u20ac\u2122m already here. I know I should say, yes, take her right now, I\u00e2\u20ac\u2122ll meet you in 5 minutes<\/em>, but the words are lost. Nothing comes out.<\/p>\n \u00e2\u20ac\u0153So? Are you meeting me there, or what?\u00e2\u20ac\u009d<\/p>\n \u00e2\u20ac\u0153Yes, sorry, yes. Take her now. I\u00e2\u20ac\u2122ll meet you as soon as I can,\u00e2\u20ac\u009d I whisper, already regretting my lie.<\/p>\n \u00e2\u20ac\u0153When? How long until you show up? Where are you anyway?\u00e2\u20ac\u009d I hang up the phone without answering. Normally he\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s the one to calm me down; I don\u00e2\u20ac\u2122t know how to be him.<\/p>\n I quickly shut off my cell. I picture him loading Melissa into her car seat, packing her overnight bag, and trying to reassure her. I stare at my phone for a moment, thinking it might somehow still ring; he might call and beg me to come, tell me he can\u00e2\u20ac\u2122t do this on his own, but we both know he can. In a couple of hours from now when I rush over to him as he sits in the pediatrics waiting room, I know he\u00e2\u20ac\u2122ll have already forgotten that I was gone, missing even. We\u00e2\u20ac\u2122ll sit side by side in silence, waiting for the doctor. At one time we used to hold hands, talk, engage one another, keeping our minds off Melissa, but that requires too much work now.<\/p>\n We\u00e2\u20ac\u2122d met at a pub sometime during the winter semester of my third year. It had been a rumour on campus that the bartender at Tony\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s Tavern<\/em> was attractive, very flirtatious, but yet, no girl had been able to get him to bed. As soon as I\u00e2\u20ac\u2122d heard this, I took it as a personal challenge to get his attention. The following Friday night, I strutted into the mostly female populated pub and quickly headed towards the bar to order a drink. The bartender glanced over at me and immediately left his other customers.<\/p>\n \u00e2\u20ac\u0153I\u00e2\u20ac\u2122ll have a Maiden\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s Prayer, please.\u00e2\u20ac\u009d He stared at me for a moment, bewildered. I smiled, biting down on my lower lip. It was a drink I\u00e2\u20ac\u2122d heard on some TV show and I figured he\u00e2\u20ac\u2122d have no idea how to make it. I wanted to see him squirm. He took off into the corner and I watched as he read something on his phone while looking through the bottles of liquor along the side of the bar. Finally, he placed the glass on the counter in front of me.<\/p>\n \u00e2\u20ac\u0153You don\u00e2\u20ac\u2122t come here often, do you?\u00e2\u20ac\u009d he asked, grinning. \u00e2\u20ac\u0153Around here, we call this drink Between the Sheets,\u00e2\u20ac\u009d he said confidently, trying to hide the fact that I\u00e2\u20ac\u2122d stumped him. I laughed, and sipped my drink slowly, ignoring it\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s sour and almost repulsive taste. I spent the night pressed up tightly against the rough wood of the bar, ordering drink after drink, just so I could talk to him. When the bar was closing, he leaned in and asked me to stay.<\/p>\n \u00e2\u20ac\u0153It\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s my bar, I make the rules,\u00e2\u20ac\u009d he gleamed as the last customer was ushered out. I had meant to leave, call a cab.<\/p>\n \u00e2\u20ac\u0153I have a lot of work to do tomorrow, or I guess, today,\u00e2\u20ac\u009d I said as I grabbed my jacket. I took hold of the door handle just as he was lunging for my arm. He swung me around and pulled me towards him. He ran his hand over my bare arms, across my face, brushed his thumb along my lips.<\/p>\n \u00e2\u20ac\u0153You can\u00e2\u20ac\u2122t leave now,\u00e2\u20ac\u009d he whispered as he led me upstairs to his apartment.<\/p>\n But I can\u00e2\u20ac\u2122t think of him now. I reach over to the passenger seat and grab my purse. I clutch it tightly to my chest, my eyes still fixed on the large building in front of me. It\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s a cool evening for August. The sun is setting slowly, prolonging this already long day. I\u00e2\u20ac\u2122ve been sitting in my car for forty minutes. Each time I talk myself into leaving, I think of Anthony, and I don\u00e2\u20ac\u2122t know how I can go through with this.<\/p>\n We were up most of the night last night, listening to Melissa cry. \u00e2\u20ac\u0153We should bring her in bed with us,\u00e2\u20ac\u009d I\u00e2\u20ac\u2122d suggested, but he didn\u00e2\u20ac\u2122t answer. I thought maybe I should go get her, but I wasn\u00e2\u20ac\u2122t sure what he wanted. When Melissa was first born we\u00e2\u20ac\u2122d promised she\u00e2\u20ac\u2122d never sleep in bed with us. \u00e2\u20ac\u0153We need us time,\u00e2\u20ac\u009d he\u00e2\u20ac\u2122d said. Once I was sure she was asleep I\u00e2\u20ac\u2122d reach for him, pull him onto me, bite into his shoulder as he kissed my neck. \u00e2\u20ac\u0153How about a Between the Sheets?\u00e2\u20ac\u009d I\u00e2\u20ac\u2122d ask, laughing. But thinking of those nights is like remembering a movie, or a book I\u00e2\u20ac\u2122d read; it isn\u00e2\u20ac\u2122t my life anymore. I felt my chest grow tight, the tears chocking in the back of my throat. I rolled away from him and pressed my face into the pillow to muffle my cries. I wanted to make things better, but on nights like these, it seemed an impossible task.<\/p>\n A loud clatter in the parking lot draws me back to my surroundings. I look up and see a group of women, all in stilettos, crossing the parking lot. They walk in sync, and as they laugh their purses swing effortlessly by their sides. Some of them walk awkwardly, their knees bent like gazelles preparing to sprint. I stare down at my own high heels and wonder if I look like them. The shoes feel uncomfortable and confining on my feet. It\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s been a couple of years since I\u00e2\u20ac\u2122d worn them. The last time was probably at Melissa\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s baptism. That was before the diagnosis, before the sleepless nights, the fighting. The sun has set, the parking lot emptying. On the road, a car accelerates quickly across the dark highway, leaving a cloud of smoke behind it like a long, frail finger reaching for something that\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s already gone.<\/p>\n \u00e2\u20ac\u0153There is one option left, but without drug coverage it\u00e2\u20ac\u2122ll be expensive,\u00e2\u20ac\u009d the doctor had told us over the phone three days ago. I listened on the line in silence. When Melissa was first diagnosed I immediately left my job to be at home with her. As months went by, Anthony eventually sold his bar for some extra money. We hadn\u00e2\u20ac\u2122t realized that these actions meant that we would be left without personal drug coverage.<\/p>\n \u00e2\u20ac\u0153We\u00e2\u20ac\u2122ll figure it out,\u00e2\u20ac\u009d Anthony said, as though reassuring the doctor. I knew this was impossible, knew that there was no money left. We spent the rest of the day roaming our home never wanting to bump into the other, fearing what might happen if our skin were to touch. That night we lay in bed for hours without talking until he finally rolled over and placed a hand on my back.<\/p>\n \u00e2\u20ac\u0153We\u00e2\u20ac\u2122ll make this work, we always do,\u00e2\u20ac\u009d he whispered. I wondered if he\u00e2\u20ac\u2122d been crying. His voice sounded distant, unfamiliar. \u00e2\u20ac\u0153Whatever money we need, we\u00e2\u20ac\u2122ll get.\u00e2\u20ac\u009d He rubbed my back slowly for a few moments before rolling over. His touch felt foreign and not comforting.<\/p>\n \u00e2\u20ac\u0153A Maiden\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s Prayer would be really nice right about now,\u00e2\u20ac\u009d I whispered with a slight giggle, unsure why those words were leaving my mouth. Silence. At one time, the mention of that drink would cause him to pounce on me like a hungry animal. \u00e2\u20ac\u0153Don\u00e2\u20ac\u2122t you mean, Between the Sheets,\u00e2\u20ac\u009d he\u00e2\u20ac\u2122d always say. But this time, nothing. A few minutes later I heard his deep snores. How he could sleep? I lay in bed trying to figure things out. We\u00e2\u20ac\u2122d had charity events, borrowed from family, took donations, sold our belongings, moved to a smaller house, but it was never enough. I didn\u00e2\u20ac\u2122t understand how he thought that it would be an easy problem to solve. If he had things figured out, why wasn\u00e2\u20ac\u2122t he sharing them with me?<\/p>\n I reach for my cell again as though expecting the phone to reveal the answers to me. How can he possibly think that we\u00e2\u20ac\u2122ll have the money in time? There is no more time, no more money. I grab onto the steering wheel and let my head drop onto the soft rubber. I hold my breath for a few moments, trying to suffocate the tears. I glance up and catch my own reflection in the rear-view mirror. This woman looks tired, dishevelled. The make-up she wears seems forced and fake. I want to reach out and touch her, comfort her, but I don\u00e2\u20ac\u2122t know how. She seems too far-gone. In an attempt to escape this woman\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s stares, I yank open the car door and step out into the dark parking lot. I listen, as though coming from miles away, to the clatter of my shoes as I march briskly towards the building\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s entrance. I step into the lobby and am greeted by silence. I expected to find swarms of people coming and going, but the place is almost empty. I scan the room quickly. Off to the side there\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s a large man with greying hair sitting at a table, his back to me. I grasp tightly onto the straps of my purse, inhale deeply, and walk over to him. I take a quick second to scan my reflection, this time in the large windows. From a distance, I watch as the image steps closer to the man. I want to run, leave the mirrored woman here with him, thinking maybe she can do the job for me; I believe for a moment that this is possible.<\/p>\n \u00e2\u20ac\u0153Marc?\u00e2\u20ac\u009d I ask as the large man turns quickly to face me, as though startled. \u00e2\u20ac\u0153You\u00e2\u20ac\u2122re late,\u00e2\u20ac\u009d he grunts, still sitting in the chair. I nod silently as his eyes wander over my body, seeming to appreciate the tight folds of my black dress. I follow him to the elevator, neither of us speaking. As the doors close I catch sight of the car in the parking lot. I thinks that perhaps I still have time to run out, but as he reaches for my arm, I know it\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s too late.<\/p>\n \u00e2\u20ac\u0153I thought you weren\u00e2\u20ac\u2122t going to show,\u00e2\u20ac\u009d he says, letting his hands roam over my body. He touches me in a familiar way, yet I feel nothing. It is as though my skin is no longer attached to my body. As I watch the elevator lights jump from one floor to another, I wonder how this could have happened. I close my eyes for a moment and picture Anthony, the look of desperation on his face, and I know this is our only option. I hold my breath and wait.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" A Maiden\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s Prayer Lindsay Foran My hand is on the door handle when my cell vibrates in my jacket pocket. I\u00c2\u00a0 exhale deeply, look up towards the large brown building in front of me, and release the grip on the handle. It\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s Anthony; he\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s worried. But what if it\u00e2\u20ac\u2122s not him? I don\u00e2\u20ac\u2122t usually sneak […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":2,"featured_media":0,"parent":96,"menu_order":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","template":"authorpage.php","meta":{"ngg_post_thumbnail":0,"footnotes":""},"class_list":["post-1200","page","type-page","status-publish","hentry"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.mtls.ca\/issue12\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages\/1200","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.mtls.ca\/issue12\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.mtls.ca\/issue12\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/page"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.mtls.ca\/issue12\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/2"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.mtls.ca\/issue12\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=1200"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/www.mtls.ca\/issue12\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages\/1200\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":1203,"href":"https:\/\/www.mtls.ca\/issue12\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages\/1200\/revisions\/1203"}],"up":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.mtls.ca\/issue12\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages\/96"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.mtls.ca\/issue12\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=1200"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}