“They can’t give birth any other way. They never have live babies. Cassidy MacLaughlin, Grade Four Science Project What?” The kitchen light flickered; the storm was picking up. I was momentarily disoriented. “I don’t get it.” “Sit down,” Mom said softly. My legs shook. Blood pounded behind my eyes. I felt like I had a case of instant flu. I sat. “What are you talking about?” Dad pinched the bridge of his nose and dropped his gaze. “It’s complicated.” “Am I adopted?” “You’re not adopted.” Mom gra...bbed the butter tart squares from the top of the microwave and sat back down again. “You’ve seen the pictures of me pregnant. How I looked right after delivery.” Her voice sounded strangled, like she had a chunk of rigatoni caught in the back of her throat. “What, then?” I stared from Mom to Dad. “What is it?” “It’s…” Dad hesitated. “It’s…complicated,” he repeated weakly. Complicated. Now that explained a lot. Mom, a.k.a. Queen of Avoidance, busied herself cutting the butter tarts into perfect two-inch squares.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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