Chapter 29

The motion makes me laugh again, and I like how it sounds. I never giggle like this. It feels very unlike me in every way. I’ve turned into a giggler with zero control over it.

“You stay like that while I make you a drink. Tea? Water?” he asks.

“Brandy!” I never liked the stuff at all. It burns going down, but it did start to taste good after the third one, and the side effects are positively awesome.

“No, Emma. No more alcohol.” He sounds stern, bossy, and paternal like a father should. It brings sperm donor back to the forefront of my swirling thoughts.

“Why didn’t he want me, Jake?” I query sadly. I talk to the ceiling; it feels like I’m lying on a shrink’s couch, like in the movies when sad people talk to psychiatrists in stark offices on green couches and stare at boring ceilings. I note the roof no longer looks smooth and creamy; it looks shitty.

Maybe Jake could be my shrink.

“Because he’s an idiot. Not all men are cut out to be fathers.” I