I took a shaky breath and turned around. I knew who was standing there. Even without looking at them, the familiar weight of their judgment pressed down on me.
It was my mother and father. Six years had passed, but they looked exactly the same—tired, and always, always disappointed in me.
Surprisingly it didn't bother me the way it did back then and seeing them didn't wake some old feelings or make me feel some type of way.
My mother didn't waste a second. Her face was set hard, like stone.
I was hoping that maybe she wouldn't insist on asking again but I was wrong.
"Faith," she said, her voice dry and low. Then she asked the question that I knew was coming, the one she had asked Alice. "Do you have a son?"
I tried to keep my face calm, forcing a smile that felt tight and unnatural.
