“My mother, tall and elegant and reminiscent of Lauren Bacall at her coolest, might as well have been born on a different planet from me; I cannot imagine her carrying me in her womb, no matter what evidence there is to the contrary. I am an only child, and I’ve seen pictures of her pregnant, so I guess I’m really hers. I was never much a child of my father, except biologically. He left when I was in my teens, my early teens. My mother, in her excellent vengeance, became a real estate tycoon in ...a modest way—if a tycoon can be modest—and lived in more affluence than I ever would have if I’d stayed with my newspaperman father. He’d remarried, and had a son named Phillip, my half-brother. I hadn’t seen Phillip in years. My father had decided I reminded the boy of a traumatic incident, and that seeing me was bad for Phillip. When he got his own computer, Phillip began emailing me. I could tell, in his first messages, Phillip considered himself daring, contacting his dangerous older sister.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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