white photo, which Rose had kept, displayed every day for the rest of her life. Despite the ugliness of their marriage, Rose could never put the photo away. It reminded her that for one brief moment in her life, she had hope. Often, as she pondered the sadness of her life, she would pick up the picture and stare at herself glowing in the dingy photo. And when she did so, she momentarily forgot reality, lost in a fog of one happy moment.
At seventeen, Rose married young, but she did not marry for love. She married the first and only man who ever asked her, though she worried that he drank a lot. Her father drank a lot too, and she never thought about what kind of effect it would have on her life.
After all, Rose and Thomas knew each other since they were small children, attending the same little church, and she decided that she knew enough about him. He was three years older, but they had never really been friends. She admired how tall and sturdy he was. That served him well at the plant, which required physical stamina and strength.
They married the weekend after he asked her because there was no reason to wait.
“I want to have a child,” Rose said to Thomas shyly, “More than anything, I want a daughter.”
“If that’s what you want,” he said in his usual quiet way. He never gave many of his thoughts away, so there was nothing to ever talk about.
Having a child would assure Rose would never be alone. A child would fulfill her and complete her, and she envisioned a daughter who would be her best friend. Rose saw her as a constant companion, the keeper of her secrets and her soul, unlike her own mother. She knew that if she had a daughter, she would never need anything else.
But she knew, in order to have a child, she would need a husband to care for her financially. Rose didn’t come from money. She barely graduated high school, and she didn’t have any marketable skills. Marrying Thomas was Rose’s only chance at a halfway decent life, and she needed to take it. Her mother reminded her of this every chance she got.
“Rose, a girl like you can’t afford to be picky,” Momma said to her in her twinkly voice that she reserved for when she was being critical, which was always. As she helped Rose get ready for the wedding, she gave her the best advice she could give. “Just be happy someone is marrying you.”
After two months of courting, Rose still didn’t know Thomas that well, and she was glad to get the ceremony part of out of the way. Rose figured they would get to know each other better after the wedding.
After their wedding, he still rarely touched her. On their wedding night, they didn’t consummate their marriage, and Rose was relieved. He didn’t try to touch her, and their marriage wasn’t much different from when they dated. Neither of them talked much, and the closest they ever came to intimacy was holding hands.
They didn’t consummate for a couple of weeks into their marriage. And when they finally did, it was painful and awkward, and both were relieved to finally get it out of the way.
When he did touch her, it made her uncomfortable. His touch was too stiff and awkward to stir up anything within her. Their lovemaking was infrequent, but when he did make the attempt, he often passed out or lost interest before he was done. She was far too shy to try to seduce him herself, and she wouldn’t even know where to begin. He was the only man she had ever been with. If it weren’t for the hopes of having a child, she would have only wished for him to pass out every night and forget she was in his bed, altogether.
She wanted to be filled with a child even if it was his child, but his thrusts were awkward. His eyes never looked at her, his face screwed up as though the task at hand took much concentration. In the end, it was always anticlimactic, and she was always glad when it was over.
Year after year went by, and she failed to get pregnant.
“Why can’t we have a child? It’s been