Busted, by Vee

Tired is a tired word, and doesn’t begin to describe the sheer physical numbness that’s overwhelmed me. Like a nasty little demon on the prowl, fatigue has found a safe and easy conquest.
I slide down to the closet floor. It’s a slow, painful process. My body objects, and a frisson of pain shoots up through my chest and into my head. I hurt. God, but I do hurt. When will this end?
Will it end? Maybe not. Perhaps it’s just a bit of wishful thinking.
I lean back against the door and put my ear to the slots. I hear their voices. They are still downstairs.
Shouting, “We’ll find you.” And another voice, “You can run, but you can’t hide!”
What if I lie down on the floor? Find some clothes and try to hide underneath them?
I want to close my eyes like a small child. A little one who thinks no one can see them if they do that.
More voices, and they are closer. Near the stairs. “Your time’s almost up, lady!”
No. Please. Not yet. Not yet, give me some more time. I need more time, I’m not ready for this.
I reach up and pull down some dresses. I arrange them on the floor, and then I find my husband’s large black wool coat. I curl up on the dresses and cover myself with the heavy black material.
If I am very still, maybe when they open the closet door, they won’t think to look under the coat. They will think I am just a sloppy housekeeper.
I am a sloppy housekeeper. So what?
The voices are coming closer. They laugh, even as they threaten me.
Dear God, I feel a sneeze coming on. I pinch my nose. The sneeze evaporates.
Slowly, I peer out from a button hole in the coat. I see the closet door open, just a bit. Perhaps they’ll look quickly and shut the damned door. I could fall asleep here, stay here for hours.
Then the laughter erupts. A great huge belly laugh. I look down and realize my stomach is bulging out from the coat and it’s moving on the floor like a cat.
And then I hear someone say, “Hey, guys! Come look at Mom! All you can see is her stomach! I think our new brother’s going to be a biggie! ”
“Yeah,” Says the wise ass eight year old, “And he moves around a whole lot. Mom, looks like you’ll have to quit playing hide and seek until the kid is born.”
Busted!