The Four
I was sitting on my usual park bench on a Saturday evening when a pregnant woman in a hoodie rushed towards me from behind and sat by my side. She was covered in sweat and wheezing her lungs out. “Are you okay?” “Is there anyone coming this way?” she asked. “What?” I looked around and saw no one approaching us. “No one,” I said. The woman released a heavy sigh and wiped her face. “Thank god… I don’t have any energy left to run.” I was concerned. “Who’s chasing you?” “My husband. I’m running away from him.” My mind raced back to my childhood: my mom took me away from my abusive father when I was five. We travelled across the country and, thankfully, haven’t seen or heard from him since. I asked the woman when she was due; the date was just a week away, and she was going to have quadruplets, all girls. Relating to her and her children, I asked the woman if she had a place to go. She said she had no idea yet, and that she had no living relatives. I told her she could stay with me for as l