“That boy is a world of pain,” she says and thinks as she hears the words she’s often thought but never spoken: This is wrong. And then: No, this is exactly right. Wrong that she’s saying it aloud. Right that it’s the truth. A world of pain: her older son, the darling boy who was born in agony (hers) and then wailed in agony (his) for months afterward. He was furious with all that was beyond his control: struggling infant, stubborn toddler, raging and often violent kid.
She stops this train of thought by reaching for her glass. Mustn’t go on. It’s over now. It’s been over for years.
“Was,” she says and shakes her head. “Was..." Read the whole story