The Woman

The woman is surprised to find she is pregnant and drives to her boyfriend’s house to tell him. Her boyfriend is a Project Manager. His projects are complex and so is he. He has no interest in babies, he says. But the woman thinks this baby is meant to be. Nothing seems more obvious to her than this. Her boyfriend’s eyes narrow and his mouth forms a thin line, except when he opens it to swear. The woman holds her hands over the places she imagines the baby’s ears might be. She stops drinking and takes folic acid every day.

Months pass and the woman begins to worry. She is a teacher, but her job is not permanent. When she is seven months pregnant, she walks to the welfare office. Her stomach is swollen and her back hurts, but she is enjoying her fecundity. She wears a new dress. It is white and made of cotton. The security guard opens the door for her because her name is on his clipboard. She smiles at him and takes a seat next to a man who smells of cigarettes and stale sweat and something fetid that makes her think dark thoughts. “I am not like you,” she thinks. Her leg starts to cramp, and she walks to the front desk. The receptionist seems neither agreeable nor disagreeable and tells her she must wait her turn. “I have an appointment,” the woman says. “Everyone has an appointment,” the receptionist replies. The woman notices a dirty mark on her new white dress. It was not there before.

The woman needs to use the bathroom. There is a public toilet across the road, the receptionist tells her. The woman does not want to miss her appointment, so she waits. Her mouth is dry, but there is no water. She needs to pass water and drink water and thinks this is a paradox. The woman waits two hours for a caseworker to call her name. She has high hopes for the meeting because she works hard and pays her taxes. The caseworker does not say “congratulations” when the woman tells her she is pregnant. She says, “Come back when you have had your baby.” 

The woman has a baby girl. She stares into her eyes and whispers, “I will make your life wonderful.” The woman gently places the baby in her new pram. It is black with a grey visor and has an excellent safety rating. She walks to the welfare office and waits ninety-seven minutes to tell a caseworker about her baby. The caseworker asks to see the birth certificate, but the woman is still waiting for her boyfriend to sign it. He is busy, he tells the woman. He has a lot of projects to manage. “I will sign it tomorrow,” he says. The caseworker tells the woman she cannot have money without a birth certificate. “We need proof,” she says. The woman has not worked for two months and has spent most of her savings. Her baby is beautiful, but expensive. She meets with a lawyer who works in a large office in the city. The lawyer says he can help, but there is a cost. The woman has no money, so she drives to visit her mother. Her mother lives in a large house with a view of the sea, although the roof leaks badly when the rain comes from the South. The woman asks for money and feels ashamed. She prays for sunshine, even though it is nearly June.

The woman goes to work three days a week. There is a child-care centre nearby with a frieze of ducklings running along the top of all four walls. The staff ratio is high and so are the fees. “You are lucky,” the manager says, “we have a space.” The woman does not want to leave her baby and wonders how she can be both lucky and bereft. It is another paradox. The woman receives a salary. It is not generous, but it is enough until the day her welfare payment stops without warning. The woman calls the welfare office. She is calm because she understands that mistakes happen. She waits for fifty-three minutes and explains the mistake to the young girl who answers the phone. “I will fix it,” the young girl says. But she does not, and the woman cannot pay her rent. She waits for forty-one minutes and explains again to a man with a high-pitched voice. Now she is not calm. The man with the high-pitched voice says, “I will fix it. It will take a day. Maybe two.” “I have no money,” the woman sobs, but he has already answered another call. 

One morning the woman receives a phone call from the day-care centre. “Please come, your baby is sick,” the manager says. The Principal tells her to go. He will find somebody else to teach the children, he tells her. The baby recovers but now the woman is sick. She goes to work anyway and when she gets home there is a letter waiting. She must repay her income support, the letter says. The woman has no money and is distraught. She has still not paid her mother the money for the lawyer. This time she waits for forty-three minutes and explains the mistake to a woman with a voice like gravel. The woman’s landlord calls to ask why her rent is late. The Principal calls to ask if she will be at work. The baby is crying. Her forehead is hot, and she has been sick on the carpet. No one is happy with the woman, least of all the woman herself. 

The woman leaves her job. On cold nights, she sleeps with her baby in the lounge. The woman pretends they are camping. She makes a tent out of sheets and a picnic out of sandwiches. The baby shrieks with delight. One morning she finds there is no more food in the cupboard, not even for sandwiches. The woman’s bank account is as empty as her pantry. She takes the baby to the welfare office. When she arrives, she sits beside a woman with hair like straw. The straw-haired woman reaches out to shake her baby’s hand. “How do you do?” she sings and the baby laughs. The straw-haired woman is not well. She has so many problems that the woman’s head starts to spin. The woman listens and feeds the baby carrots she has julienned by hand until the straw-haired woman is called to her appointment. The straw-haired woman stumbles as she lurches to her feet, and the carrots scatter across the floor like stubby orange pick-up sticks. The baby feels the loss deeply and begins to cry. Just then, the woman hears her own name and follows another caseworker to a desk where he types notes into a computer and tells her she must learn to budget. The woman looks at the crying baby and then down at herself, at her faded sweatshirt and canvas sneakers wearing thin at the toe. She does not recognise herself anymore. Outside the straw-haired woman is waiting and presses twenty-dollars into her palm. “For the baby,” she says, and the woman cries with relief.

The caseworker arranges a meeting with a budget advisor who shows the woman a spreadsheet on his computer. He tells the woman to list her expenses. When she has finished, the amount at the bottom is a negative. “I have done something wrong,” she says. “No,” the budget advisor tells her, “you just need more money.” Before he retired, the budget advisor worked in an office with a view over a park. He used to jog in the park at lunchtime and take his family to Hawaii each year. When he retired, he said, “I will not play golf all day. I will help people who are not so proficient as me.” Tonight, the budget advisor and his wife eat dinner at their favourite Italian restaurant. The owner greets them by name and brings them two glasses of Montepulciano. “On the house,” he says. The budget advisor tells his wife about the woman. “The system in broken,” he sighs, and the wine catches in his throat.

The woman buys one-dollar loaves of bread and food that is reduced to clear. Last week she found a large bag of mushrooms for only three dollars. She is good at finding bargains. When the woman runs out of food, she does not tell anyone, not even the welfare office. “Everything is fine,” she says to her mother when she calls, and she fries up pieces of bread that she cuts into tiny animals. The baby laughs at the shapes while the woman drinks glasses of water and dreams of food. She dreams of crumbed fish with fennel slaw. And fillet steak with slow-roasted tomatoes. And balsamic braised mushrooms with carrots. The woman wipes out the pan and fries a slice of bread for herself.