I was willing to believe that Keith LaMarchese—Rolex means more sex, let the ladies know—was a dues-paying member of the so-called ruling class. I knew at a cellular level that my father was not. And neither, horrible as she was, was Amy. I’ve never asked, I suppose, I said, my voice sounding choked and ghostly to me, what your mother and father do, like what they do for money. Thom looked discomfited for the first time. He shrugged. They work in medicine, he said. My mom works in medicine. Lots of different ways to work in medicine. What do they do? Thom ate a sausage with violent chews.
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