Ambrose
an excerpt

Ambrose stepped all the way into the room and said, “What’s going on?”

“Nothing,” Resa said. Ambrose could see her hands shaking.

“Stop,” Ambrose said.

Resa stopped.

“What’s going on?” Ambrose said.

“Why does it matter?” Resa said. But instead of asking him the question rhetorically, she was actually pleading him.

“Are you seeing someone?” Ambrose said.

“No,” Resa said.

“Are you going to have a baby?”

“No.”

Ambrose walked further into the room. Resa actually backed away from him. “Then why would you talk about morning sickness and having a child?”

“Ambrose, you don’t understand,” Resa said, holding up a hand to make yet another barrier between them.

“And that’s why you’ve been in bed for the past three days,” Ambrose said.

“Ambrose,” Resa said, as if she thought that by repeating his name, she would soften something in him, remind him that he was a human being just like here. “You know that I’m not a bad person. I’m here on this trip, doing something good. I believe in God. I believe the same things you believe. So you have to know that I’m a trustworthy person, and I’m not saying this for some kind of personal gain. You don’t understand. You have to trust me that you really don’t understand. I’m not a bad person. I’m not an irresponsible person. I didn’t do anything wrong. OK?”