The M.I.L.F. Man

Maybe baby

I usually get in and out of those damned portable shitters as fast as I possibly can. But these ones were sturdier and a lot less stinky than most. So I stood there sweating and shaking--and not just because I'd just heaved up all that good food I'd wolfed down earlier.

I was buggin' out big time. Trying to count backwards to my last real period, trying to think if I'd felt anything else unusual before this...if we'd slipped up somewhere...

NuvaRings fail. Everything can fail. And I'd gotten a little bit blasé about those "wait weeks," admittedly—we bagged up, though, when I wasn't sure. Usually.

I mean, there were times when we just dove on in, I'm not gonna lie. When that love comes down like a freight train there's no stopping past a certain point. And I think being married we were less vigilant about a lot of things. It was always in the back of my mind that we'd be all right regardless.

But dude, we were just getting our shit together career wise, you know? I was graduating in a few months and Chas was sailing toward that law degree like a boss, too. He was going to be the answer to many a prayer.

And I don't want to hear that "you don't even need a job" crap, either. I've wanted to teach since I was a little girl back in Honduras where we might only have one teacher in a little run-down shack somewhere.

Even teachers had to pay the gangs for protection sometimes—that's why we couldn't keep one long. And even then those guys might come busting in to recruit boys and snatch some girls. Sometimes they just shot up a school to remind the whole village who was in charge.

But I cherished the few little beat up books we got from God knows where. And I was always being asked to help the littler kids with their work while the teacher was moving through all the different age groups in the room. Or that kid who only showed up once in blue moon because they had to work the farm or mule drugs or something.

I loved watching that little light come into their eyes when they finally started to catch on. Just reading and writing their own names would make some of them cry tears of joy. And I cried right along with them.

I wanted them to learn to read so they could be transported out of the awfulness like I was, when I was immersed in my books. But most of them were content to learn a little survival math, maybe, once they could read well enough.

If they had enough money to attend at all. Costs money to go to school down there. Sometimes for uniforms, sometimes a basic "tuition" to help pay for the teacher and supplies and stuff like that. So a lot of kids never attend because their families can't pay or they're needed out in the fields.

That's why it hurts me to see how people abuse public schools in the States. We're so lucky to have that for free. And for people to be diluting the curriculum to the point that kids aren't even going to be learning anything hardly anymore...that upsets my stomach, too.

So I'm in this for real, okay? I want to teach the kids who are being shortchanged like that deliberately, to keep them subservient and beholden. So they'll have to wind up working for the kids out there wearing those Walther shirts one way or another one day...

I stepped out of their fancy potty all tied up in knots emotionally. Cause there was that part of me deep down that just kind of couldn't help being a little bit excited about maybe being pregnant by the most beautiful man on the planet. But the timing...