The Happy Housewife

The village's "wise woman", an old crone who looks to be at least eighty, though she's pleasant enough, is one of the visitors. She lays her hand on the as yet imperceptible bulge of my belly, before telling me that I'm going to have a boy. Then she adds: "Or possibly twin boys." I sincerely hope not! Of course, I could easily have misunderstood her. She speaks no English and, though I'm starting to make some progress in picking up the local language, she has a thicker accent than most of the people. Unfortunately Taymur isn't home, being out with the goats, so I can't get confirmation from him of what she said.

Five more months pass by. My affection for Taymur has deepened into true love and, though I'm occasionally bored during the day when he is away tending the goats, for the most part I'm very happy. I'd always seen myself as the career woman type rather than as a housewife. It just shows that you never can tell. It helps that by now I've managed to make some friends among the local women, and we visit one another from time to time.

I'm at the seven month stage of my pregnancy, and my belly is becoming quite impressive. I can speak and understand the local language quite well by now, though the villagers tell me with a smile that my accent is still atrocious. It's probably no worse than the English accent of most of the few who can speak English, though. I've told everyone that I like to be called "Harry", short for "Harriet", but they seem to be unable to aspirate the "aitch", so that it comes out more like "Ari".

1. One night, men from the facility come to town. After so long, it seems unlikely that they could be looking for me, so I wonder what brings them here.
2. Then tragedy strikes. Taymur falls sick, and within a week he is dead.
3. Another month passes.

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