Fiction | July 14, 2015
What to Expect
Robin Romm
Three am, four am, the inky blot of time between night and dawn, she sat up in bed covered in sweat. There were no dreams to blame. She’d stopped dreaming. It was like her body knew she no longer needed to dream, that she had stepped into a reality more surreal. The baby could be retarded. The baby could be autistic. The baby could have a congenital defect, faulty DNA. The baby could have a less determinate problem— could be mean or exhausting or ugly. Really, this baby could be anybody.
This story is not currently available online.
If you are a student, faculty member, or staff member at an institution whose library subscribes to Project Muse, you can read this piece and the full archives of the Missouri Review for free. Check this list to see if your library is a Project Muse subscriber.
Want to read more?
Subscribe TodaySEE THE ISSUE
SUGGESTED CONTENT
Fiction
Sep 28 2020
Wait for Me
Every day, I stepped off the school bus on Flat Run Road, and every day, on the other side of the fence, Judy Puckett sat astride a four-wheeler, gunning the… read more
Fiction
Sep 28 2020
Triumph
It was harder than she expected. Some of the patients at the women’s clinic refused to give Intisar their full medical history, as though it were gossip she might turn… read more
Fiction
Sep 28 2020
On the Western Bride
I’d been pinheading on a fishing boat called the Western Bride—scrubbing and prepping so I could fish for free—and that winter I’d made deckhand. This was when I was living… read more