Just then, John came out of the bathroom. Seeing he was fine, I breathed a sigh of relief and looked at him hopefully, wishing he'd stop Grace's outrageous accusations. His mother spreaded such vicious rumors about his wife.
But John just said, "I thought you died out there. Turns out you're still alive."
"Mom's right. Can't you behave? Always complaining about stomach pains and dressing like a streetwalker. People might think you're selling yourself!"
My heart sank. I wore a loose maternity dress because my chest had grown with the pregnancy, and it was too hot. Yet, John accused me of dressing like a streetwalker.
The more I thought about it, the more wronged I felt. Distracted, I tripped and fell. Clutching my belly, I noticed a banana peel on the floor.
Before I could say anything, Grace grabbed my hair and yanked me up. "Get up and wash the dishes. Don't think you can slack off."
"If you're going to enjoy my son's things and just laze around at home, I'll make sure he gives you a good beating!"
My scalp hurt, and my belly ached. Dizzy and struggling, I couldn't resist. Grace shoved me into the kitchen and slammed the door, telling me to hurry up and wash.