My in-laws are welcoming but not overly warm. Anthony is their golden boy. I get the impression they think it’s somehow my fault he can’t keep it in his pants. They’re aware of his affairs, and like me, they turn a blind eye. If Marianne asks me one more time if I’ve thought about having a baby, I might actually explode, though. How the hell can I have a baby? Apart from the fact you need to have sex to make one—something which Anthony and I don’t do anymore—I already have a baby to mind—her son. His mood swings are worse than a toddler.
