This is why Trina never wanted kids. She cannot take the pressure. She cannot bear the responsibility of making sure she’s not unleashing another sociopath into the world. She doesn’t trust her genes: there are vikings and pirates and rumors of madness. Danny’s side boasts a long line of drunks. It kills her to imagine that there is anything remotely defective in her perfect angels, she loves them fiercely. But they terrify her.
Every day Trina learns something new about them that she must decipher, like the crazy lyrics that come out of the ten-year old. Every day there is something new to catastrophize. She wouldn’t have known that was a word until her therapist used it. She is trying to be better but today is upended in the midst of the most mundane task.
While emptying the knapsack of the seven-year old, under the routine detritus of sticks (Trina is stilly mystified by the recent fetish), random Lego pieces, the paper American Express card that came inside of a new wallet, she finds a new fifty dollar bill. Her hands shake as she tries and fails to imagine an innocent explanation.
8 min @ home, 5.13.13
source: a bookmark
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