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any miscarriages or stillborns before, and Cecilia considered the two of them pretty close, figured that was the sort of thing you needed a friend to talk to about. Just the way Cecilia entrusted Judy with her own problems.
    â€œExcept for your divorce.”
    And now she stays home because she’s having trouble with the child? Cecilia pondered making an anonymous call to CPS. If Judy truly believed this stuff, the baby could be in trouble, could be getting abused. Though the thought of Judy abusing her children would have been preposterous only a day ago, now it didn’t seem so far-fetched. Not after the look in her eye last night, not after the things she said.
    Cecilia tapped her foot, wiped the beading sweat from her brow. Her stomach growled as another wave of sizzling beef hit her nostrils. The cars continued to zoom by and she began to grow impatient as the orange hand refused to flick over to the white walking man on the crosswalk sign.
    â€œCelia? Is…is that you?”
    A man’s voice. To her left. And only one other person in the world had ever called her Celia besides Judy.
    Her skin prickled, her chest tightened; suddenly she couldn’t breathe.
    After what felt like an hour of collecting herself, she finally turned to face him. Her knees threatened to buckle and spill her to the concrete, but she held herself together, forced a smile. “Hello, Frank.”
    He pressed his lips together, wrapped an arm around a woman’s waist. A pregnant woman’s waist.
    â€œCelia, I’d like you to meet my wife, Christina.” His face burned red, and Cecilia could tell he felt as awkward about all of this as she did.
    â€œHi,” the woman said, then turned her attention to the ground.
    Frank laughed nervously. “What a coincidence that we’d run into each other, huh?”
    We’re right in front of my fucking job! I worked here when we were still married! But Cecilia couldn’t find the strength to answer, couldn’t even look at his face. Her eyes were glued to the swollen midsection of Christina. His new fucking wife.
    The woman glanced up at her once, gave a slight smile, a twitch of an eyebrow. The look very clearly said, Fuck off, bitch, he’s mine.
    â€œC-celia? You okay?”
    Frank’s face swam, blurred into a puddle of colors.
    â€œCan we go now?” Christina said. “I’m starving, Frank.”
    â€œYeah, just a minute.” He stepped toward Cecilia. “This wasn’t on purpose, okay? I didn’t mean for you to see this.”
    â€œFuck you.” Cecilia wiped away her tears so she could see him clearly. “Fuck you.”
    â€œWho the fuck do you think you’re talking to?” Christina said. The woman waddled closer, one hand on her hip, the other pointing a finger like a dagger in Cecilia’s face.
    Cecilia shoved the woman dead center in the chest, pulled her hands away when Frank tried to grab her. “Don’t you fucking touch me!”
    Christina toppled backward, gasped when the back of her head slammed against the pavement. One of her sandals fell off, and her bare foot hung in the air, toes strained and spread wide.
    â€œWhat the hell are you doing?” Frank bent down, attended to his pretty, swollen wife. He lifted her head, whispered things to her. They both inspected her bulging stomach.
    â€œYou fucking crazy bitch!”
    â€œCelia, how could you? Are you out of your mind?”
    â€œDon’t call me that. Don’t you dare call me that!” She spit a wad of thick saliva at them; it slapped Christina in the neck, ran down between her engorged breasts. “You can both go to hell, you understand me? Both of you.”
    She ignored the shouted cusswords as she turned and ran for her car. Her stomach twisted and her face burned, and all she wanted to do right then and there was die. She just wanted to fucking die, leave this world, leave all the hurt and