We’ve spent most of the day avoiding conversation about anything remotelypersonal. But that was in the morning when Bee still felt like a stranger.Right now, she’s feeling more like a friend.
“Speaking of your father,” I start cautiously, “may I ask why he thinksyou’re pregnant?”
Bee empties the bag of gummies right into her mouth before flicking it ontothe table. “We might need alcohol for this conversation. And by ‘we,’ Imean ‘me.’” She sighs. “But since I’m too lazy to get up, I guess a sugarhigh will have to do.” She turns to me and crosses her legs. “As Iestablished in the morning, my father’s an asshole.”
“Don’t worry,” she reassures me with a pat on the knee. “This is not a caseof ‘I can say it but you can’t.’ That’s the general
