to perform a curse: How to make beauty fade. They would snigger and roll their eyes, but stay away; no one wants to be ugly. The teachers were always complaining about my lack of effort, about my poor attention span. Even the ones who appreciated my “considerable imagination” had given up on me, but I didn’t grieve the loss. I had too many things going on, too many things to think about.
None of this is new, though, which is why I get suspicious when Mother asks.
“Have you gotten any new friends?” She folds the napkin, unfolds the napkin.
“No.” I am surprised by the question. She really ought to know better than that.
“No?” She repeats it as a question, biting into her lip. “No … boys?”
“No,” I blurt out, eyes widening—the idea is silly.
Mother gives me a shivering smile, goes back to mock eating, pushing pieces of meat onto her fork with the knife, but never lifting it to her lips. “I think you have looked so pale recently. Are you eating well? Not developing some affliction, are you?”
“No.” It’s starting to get uncomfortable now, and I know where this is headed. She has figured it out, what is going on, or at least developed a strong suspicion.
“Well.” Mother’s fork is still hovering in the air. “You would tell me, wouldn’t you? If something was wrong?” She says that last part with a hard edge, gaze darting across the table, toward Father.
“Of course.” I can feel my cheeks flush. I had never planned on telling, I think. I had somehow believed that the baby was mine and mine alone, that it was just another secret to keep. Now I saw that I had been wrong. This particular secret spilled out, was just as real to others as it was to me. The realization rattled me. Now it was I who swallowed hard and fought to chew through the meat.
“Cassie is getting fat,” said Olivia.
“No,” said my mother, voice stern, gaze mended. “She’s not.”
* * *
In the next part of this story, I am sitting in the back seat of the family car. It is a large brown one with a spacious trunk, but I couldn’t tell you the brand. Father’s hands are on the wheel, his eyes are peering back at me from the rearview mirror. In the passenger seat beside him is Mother, wearing a navy-blue coat of wool. She has a pocket mirror in her hand, is freshening up her lipstick. I can see her reflection from where I’m sitting. Her eyes look tired, and small cakes of pale powder are haphazardly strewn around her face. I think she’s looking old. Older than before. Only her curls are as they have always been; very yellow, very hard.
“Don’t drive so fast,” she tells Father. “We’ll get there soon enough.” She doesn’t sound very enthusiastic about the prospect. “Although I guess you are eager to have it dealt with.” Her voice is pure venom, laced with loathing.
Father says nothing, he just drives on through the barren landscape in the early hours of dawn. The first hint of winter has come, coating the fields in a thin crust of ice. It’ll melt again in a matter of hours, but the skeletal fingers of frost have definitely been there, warning of the season to come.
I’m in pain.
“How are you doing back there?” Mother half turns in her seat to look at me. “I’m sure you are eager to get there as well?” Her voice is not as toxic as before, but it holds no warmth either. Again, she has that wary expression when she looks at me, as if I am a potential danger, as if I might bite. As if I’m something she can’t handle and she knows it. There is no blame in there, but no compassion either.
I don’t say anything. I feel sick.
“You should have told us earlier.” Mother’s lips are pursed when she looks into the mirror. “It gets harder the longer you wait.”
“How do you know?” I’m not trying to hide my resentment.
Mother doesn’t answer my question. “You don’t have to tell Dr. Martin about this,” she says instead.
“Why?”
“He would only make a fuss.”
“Why?”
“Because that’s what doctors do.”
“You were the one who wanted me to see him.”
“I know,” she sighs, closes the mirror and puts it back in her purse; her gaze drifts out the window. “We don’t have to tell everyone everything,” she says. “Some things ought to stay in the family.” Father grunts his approval by