The Fourth Child by Jessica Winter (best classic novels TXT) 📕

is not someone else’s decision.”

Mirela was softly humming.

“You can’t regret a person,” Mom said. “That’s not a sentence that makes sense. I can’t—”

“You are the one who is not making sense,” Lauren said. “You are twisting things. I am here because of a decision you made. Iwould not be here if you had made a different decision.”

“And now you are here and you can make your own decision. Your life is not my life.”

“And clearly I ruined your life.”

“No. No.”

“Say it. Have the guts to say it. You regret that I was born.”

“I cannot say that.”

“You can’t, but that doesn’t mean—”

“I can’t because it’s a lie.”

“You would have gone to college. You would have left Buffalo and had a whole other life. You wouldn’t have gotten stuck withDad.”

“Wait, what? What’s wrong with your dad?”

“He wouldn’t have been my dad, and you would have a whole other life.”

“I do not regret that you were born.”

“You do, you do, you do!”

The humming grew louder, as loud as Lauren’s voice, rhyming and dissonant.

“Lauren. You are my life’s treasure. You are the core of my being.”

“What if you had aborted me? If you’d had an abortion, we wouldn’t be here right now having this stupid conversation!”

“Lauren, stop it, right now—”

Hmm-MMM, hmm-MMM, hmm-MMM

“You wish I wasn’t born, but you love me and you don’t want me to make the same mistake you did. Is that right?”

“That’s not what I think. How are you so sure of what I think?”

“I don’t know exactly what you think. I just know you are lying.”

“Mama lie,” Mirela said and kept humming.

“That’s a terrible thing to say.”

Hmm-MMM, hmm-MMM, MMM-mm-MMM-mm-MMM-mm-MMM

“Then tell me something that’s true.”

“Mama lie,” Mirela said and kept humming.

“You seem to think only terrible things can be true.”

“Just be honest. Like that’s so hard.”

“Lauren. You are the love of my life and you have been from the moment you were born.”

“You want to know who did this to me,” Lauren said. The tears came all at once, fast and hot, spilling and sidling past oneanother. “You’re dying to know.”

“You can tell me if you want to. But I’m not going to ask again. It’s up to you.”

Mirela’s shoe thump-thump-thumped against the plastic bottom lip of the car seat, in rhythm with the hm-MM-hm-MM.

“You do want to know. Don’t lie.”

“Mama lie,” Mirela said and kept humming.

“It doesn’t matter to me. You can tell me or not tell me.”

“You can’t stand the idea of me having sex. Your daughter had sex. With a specific person. And not just once!”

“Lauren, please, Mirela is—be careful—”

“I chose it, and I liked it.”

“Lauren, my God, stop it, please stop—”

“I was inside you. Me. It was always me. I was there. I was there all the time. I was waiting. From the very first second.”

“Lauren, we’re not—”

“I was there! It was me!” Lauren was really crying now, sobbing, one fist pounding her own knee, and Mirela’s humming abruptlyhalted. “You can say all you want that we’re not talking about your situation, but that doesn’t change anything. It’s stilla person, no matter who it is. You say I made a mistake—well, that makes sense, right? Because I’m a mistake?”

“No. Never.”

“It’s one of the few things Mirela and I have in common, right? We are your two big fat fuckups!”

Mom turned around in her seat, wrenching her head to meet Lauren’s eyes over the headrest. “Lauren, don’t you dare.”

Lauren pressed her head against her window, unable to speak. Mirela began hmming and kicking again, arching her back.

“I just wish . . .” Lauren inhaled. “I wish we could have an honest conversation about this.”

“Honest?” Mom turned back and stared at the dashboard. “Okay. I can be honest with you, Lauren. Do you know what I honestlywish? You said you were waiting for me? I wish I had waited for you. You were worth the wait.”

Lauren exhaled.

“You were worth the wait,” Mom repeated.

Mom thought it was over.

“But,” Lauren said, “I wouldn’t have been me.” She was newly in control of herself. “If you’d waited.” She paused. Slowly,slowly. “You would have waited for me all your sorry life, because I would have been dead before I was born. Your preciousbaby girl.”

“Baby!” Mirela said.

“Only God knows such things,” Mom said.

“And you think God—”

“Baby, baby, baby,” Mirela said. Each baby paired off with a kick to the back of the front passenger seat.

“I don’t think anything about what God thinks,” Mom said. “I don’t presume to know. Why do you?”

“Bay-bee! Bay-bee!” Mirela sang.

“All you do is think about God,” Lauren said. “You don’t do anything without thinking about God. You got Mirela because youthought it would make God happy.”

“Having faith in God is not the same as having understanding in all of his ways. I do know he loves you, and me, and Mirela.”

“He loved Mirela so much he dumped her in some shithole and fucked her up.”

“Lauren, you can’t—”

“Some shithole you can’t even bring yourself to talk about.”

“You can’t say something like that about God. You—you place your soul in such danger when you talk like that. Do you understand?”

“Mom?” Lauren asked.

“Lauren.”

“When I was a baby, didn’t you love me? Didn’t you? Didn’t you?”

“God in heaven, Lauren, what a question—”

“When I was baby?” Mirela asked. The kick to the back of the seat was punctuation, a question mark.

“Didn’t you love me, Mommy?” Lauren asked. “You will love this baby, too. You will, Mommy. You will. You will.”

“Lauren, Lauren, my sweet girl, listen to me: I found Mirela too late, and I found you too soon.”

Mom bit down on the words like shards of glass.

“I’m so sorry,” Mom said. “Please, girls, I am sorry.”

Lauren listened as her mother gripped the car wheel and bumped her forehead against it—mumph-mumph-mumph.

“Oh God, forgive me,” Mom said, as if to herself. “God, please forgive me.”

“When I was baby!” Mirela said. Her voice was gaining in volume. She kicked harder and more. “When I was baby! When I wasbaby!”

Lauren felt the violence of what she had done, and a quickness and agility in herself—in the violence—that had