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Dogged Ma: Chapter three, part one

Chapter Three, Part One

“Girl, you better open up this door.”  Ned was pounding on my door, and he sounded upset.  How the hell did he get in my apartment building?  Some yahoo must have let him in.  All he’d have to do was smile and bat his eyelashes, and there wasn’t a single person—male or female—who could resist him.  It was the Saturday after God had made His little visit—if it was, indeed, Him—and I was in a funk.  I hadn’t answered any calls from my friends for the past three days, which was unlike me.

“Margaret!  We need to see if you’re still breathing.”  It was Wind, which meant she and Ned had talked about me.  Wind’s real name was Wendy Greenwood, but she preferred Wind in accordance with her favorite element of nature.  Well, she had a key.  She could use it if she really wanted.  Come to think of it, Ned had one as well, but it probably wasn’t on his key chain.  Wind had about a zillion keys on her key ring, so I bet mine was there, too.  I shook my head impatiently.  What the fuck was I doing ruminating about keys?  Even though it was one in the afternoon, I was still in bed.  I had managed to make it through the week at work, but I fell into bed the minute I came home last night and only got up to go to the bathroom and eat a bit.  Otherwise, I’d spent the last eighteen hours or so in bed.  I couldn’t stand what God had done to me, and I wasn’t handling it well at all.

“Girl, use your key.  I left my copy at home.  I didn’t think she wouldn’t let us in.”  That was my boy, using his head, damn him.  Sooner than I’d like, they were bursting into my bedroom.

“Margaret, what are you still doing in bed?  You’re ruining your biorhythms.”  That was Wind, coming out with something New-Agey.  She was six-feet tall in her stocking feet with a slimness stemming from being vegan.  Her flaming red hair and luminous green eyes were nicely set off by her delicate white skin.  She dressed in typical hippie fashion with tons of scarves and long, flowing skirts.  Despite her loopy appearance and somewhat eccentric beliefs, she was a dear friend.

“Girl, you need to get out of this apartment.”  Ned snapped his fingers, his dark eyes intense.  “You look as if you’ve been brooding, and you know how that goes to your head.”  Not for the first time, I wondered why Ned couldn’t be at least bi.  He was even taller than Wind, and I liked my men tall.  And buff.  And good enough to eat.  And Asian.

“What’s wrong, Margaret?”  Wind asked, her brow furrowed.  “Your aura is very dark right now.  But…I sense vigorous life inside of you.”  Her eyes widened.  “Are you pregnant?”  Did I mention she was a touch psychic?  “Oh, you are!  Who’s the father?”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” I said, turning away from them and burrowing under my blankets.  How could I tell them the truth without sounding like I was headed for the loony bin?  Granted, Wind was into all things Wiccan, and Ned was a devout Christian, but this was something out of the ordinary, even for them.  I still couldn’t believe it, so how could they?  Ned was Christian, but how would he react to me as the next Mother of God?  Wind didn’t even believe in God, so there’s no way she would understand.

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