Q

by Christina Dalcher

They just didn’t want them in the same classrooms with their own kids.

The things we make ourselves believe.

“You’re one of them,” I say. “Aren’t you?” “Yes.”

“We’re doing good work at the institute. Great work. Another twenty years and we won’t need the state schools anymore.

We’ll be rid of the bad apples.”

“Bastard” isn’t a good enough word for what my husband is.

Mothers seem to be there, always.

The first and the last people you call for, from the beginning until the end.

The forgiveness will be official only. Martha will find this out on trips to Safeway when she feels the stares of fathers and when she hears mothers whisper. She’ll move to a new state before long.