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Crab Orchard Review Vol. 12, No. 2, our

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Sally Bellerose<br />

Brinkmanship<br />

The family gathers at my sister Jane’s house to celebrate<br />

her fiftieth birthday. My parents are telling the same tale they tell<br />

every year. I should say that Mom is marshalling the story through a<br />

minefield of Dad’s interruptions. It’s the story of Jane’s gestation. It’s<br />

the tale of Mom’s aborted suicide.<br />

Except for Kennedy Marie, the newest great-grandchild, we’ve all<br />

heard some version of the story before. The digressions are of most<br />

interest in a story this well-worn. <strong>No</strong> one in this family expects linear<br />

development from anyone else, least of all my parents.<br />

“You were five. You were barely f<strong>our</strong>. You weren’t even three.” Mom<br />

looks from adult child to adult child, giving each of us an accusatory<br />

smirk. As if the fact that we are close in age got Mom pregnant. This<br />

is the way the tale always goes. Everyone in the family except Mom<br />

seems to have been responsible for Jane’s conception.<br />

“The nerve of me.” We answer the accusation individually, in<br />

descending order. Except Dad who pulls rank, “The nerve of me,” he<br />

says last, and as always, gets the biggest laugh.<br />

“Well,” Mom settles in deeper on Jane’s sofa. “I was beside myself.”<br />

“I was beside you,” Dad says. “And you were a mess.”<br />

“I was a mess,” Mom asserts, as though Dad had not stolen her<br />

line. “You don’t know how hard it was in those days. I was twenty-two<br />

years old.” She shakes her head. “The rhythm method, huh.” This is<br />

the most interesting part for her adult children. How will <strong>our</strong> eightyyear-old<br />

Mom maneuver the religious and logistical quagmire of<br />

remaining a good Catholic and disparaging Church doctrine at the<br />

same time, this time?<br />

“Priests.” Dad offers the safe ground of <strong>our</strong> culture’s latest maligned<br />

authority figure. “In those days we weren’t smart enough to shop around<br />

until we found one who would tell us what we wanted to hear.”<br />

“He’s talking about The Pill.” Mom raises her eyebrows at Cora,<br />

Jane’s twenty-year-old daughter. Mom is making a distinction she<br />

doesn’t want overlooked between abortion and the Pill. She’s all for<br />

<strong>Crab</strong> <strong>Orchard</strong> <strong>Review</strong> ◆ 1

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