Chapter 10: Arithmetic

I didn't cry. That's the part that surprised me. I sat on my parents' back step with a mug of tea going cold in my hands, and I waited for grief to arrive, and it just — didn't. What arrived instead was arithmetic. March. So: the anniversary. So: my twenty-week scan, the one he missed for a "site issue." So: every panic attack, every she's fragile right now, Nora. Four years of me being generous. Four years of me being mature. Twenty-six weeks. Which meant that while I was being wheeled...