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when I say, “Maybe you could come back later, Mrs.
Latanza, when Aunt Marty is finished.”
“Oh, I will,” she says. “The whole town has been waiting
for this.”
With a wiggle of her fingers, Mrs. Latanza says goodbye
and exits the same way she came in.
“The nerve of that woman,” Mom says. “She thinks she
owns this town.”
“Yes, well—”
“As if it’s my civic duty to maintain my home the way
she’d like it to be! Who does she think sh—”
“Mom!”
Startled, Mom glares at me.
“What about my birth?” I ask.
“Oh, yes. Where was I?”
I groan. “You were ready to tell me about your lie.”
“I never lied to you, Ruthie. I just never told you the
whole truth.”
“MOM!”
“Okay, okay.”
Mom swallows. I try to, but my mouth is spitless.
“I said I was alone that day,” Mom begins. “I wasn’t.”
“My father was there?”
“No. Martha was.”
The electric current now shoots down my legs.
“Your aunt was my birthing coach,” Mom continues.
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