That afternoon your daughter told me that if I had an abortion I’d hear a baby crying in my head for the rest of my life, but she hadn’t had an abortion, she didn’t know, she was repeating what someone else had told her, maybe a man, maybe not, but someone who thought they knew. I’d have liked to talk to your daughter before she died to tell her what I’ve heard in my head every day of my life since then, since that day she dragged me dizzy and vomiting to your house.
