“They’re having a baby,” I told her the next day in the car, both of us looking forward so she couldn’t see my face. I’d kept it to myself, the night before, crying in bed after she said goodnight. When I was with her now, I felt as if I was too much like her, the part of the family that was set aside. “Good for them,” she said. “But I didn’t think they’d want—they never mentioned having a baby,” I said. “That’s why people get married,” she said. “To have babies.”
Ouch
