Amour
"Oh crap, crap, crap!" She squeals and turns pale.
Sometimes her life is just like The Groundhog Day. She's trapped inside a world of endless repeats and the whole universe keeps running in circles. Every day begins and ends the same. People says and does the same things. Nothing is new. Nothing ever changes. She didn't have a childhood. She didn't finish high school. She didn't choose the ho life; the ho life chose her. She didn't put up a fight. She didn't even think of resisting. She accepted her fate quietly without making a scene like all the other girls. Life ain't easy. Reality hurts. Sometimes the same nightmare comes back to haunt her and she can still feel the sharp pain deep down inside her belly when she screams herself awake. She's glad Benito Ramirez is deader than dead. She's still pissed that Tank chose his cats over her. Right now food is her only comfort.
She holds her breath and watches on in amazement as Stephanie change the Bat Baby's diaper like a pro. She feels so happy for her dear friend and Batman. They deserve all the happiness in the world. She's helplessly in love with the beautiful little boy. Due to the injury she suffered that fatal night, she can't have children of her own. But that's OK, she silently decides as she looks down at the baby's smiling face. She probably won't be a good mother anyway. She didn't have a role model. She practically grew up on her own. She never knows who her father is, and her mother never ever cared. What if she's just like her mother? What if she loses her temper at her children? What if she screams all kinds of hateful things at them? What if she slaps them around and blames them for everything? What if she breaks their hearts and makes them wish they were dead? She shrugs off the unpleasant thoughts and takes a deep breath to calm herself. It is what it is. What is done is done. No need to cry over spilled milk shakes. Life goes on whether you like it or not.
They kiss little Carlos goodbye and hug Stephanie. The elevator stops at 5th floor. She narrows her eyes at Tank and pokes a smirking Connie in the ribs. No one says a word on the short ride down. Connie gets in her car and drives away. She turns around to face a silent Tank, a drop of tear running down her face. She doesn't know why she's so sad.
"You know I can't give you that." She whispers in a shaky voice.
"It's OK." Tank cups her face in his giant warm hands, kisses her gently on the lips, and wraps her in his arms. "I don't like kids that much anyway."