I know when I am not wanted

It's 4 in the morning. I am pulling yet another all-nighter for my current contract.

A slumbering Seb lies across the spare bed 'to keep me company'. Sophie is in her room; their dad may well be asleep on the couch. It's hot. Everyone is wearing as little as possible.

Sophie cries out. First a whimper, then a cry. I get up to go to her. Perhaps she wants water. But no, her cry turns into a wail when I perch on her bed and place my hand on her back. Wild-eyed she sits up and cries out: No mama. I want to be alone, and then tosses herself back on the mattress.

I retreat. I know when I am not wanted.

Silence returns to the deep hours of the muggy night.