Bang, Margaret. One year ago, I made sure you would never evolve past a clump of cells. You are twelve months cold. Whatever part of me continues to believe in a soul, knows yours will not keep watch over me, for much longer. It was never you who needed protection. It was always me.
Angelina held my hand today, as we walked Ruey. Her pace was slower than my own, which held me back from moving at the speed I am accustomed to. This should have been nothing more than a mild inconvenience. Instead, I looked ahead at the cars on the road. I panicked as I saw forward progression. People advanced, they evolved. I am trapped.
I love this child, as if she were my very own, but I cannot handle the responsibilities of motherhood. The sacrifices I am making for my nieces are not noble. They are unfair, substantial, and asphyxiating.
Jackie has suggested that I hold a symbolic funeral for Margaret. I say, there is no guilt behind the decision I made. It is not the cells that need to be buried. Those were disposed of, appropriately and satisfactorily. What I cannot forgive, is the mistakes I make, when correcting them does not come with ease, when they cause so much pain. I am culpable of being human. Something I still reject.
Mother is very young, breathtakingly beautiful. She carries me down a poorly lit neighborhood. I am sleepy, and my head rests comfortably on her shoulder. Her scent is comforting. We are headed toward a bar. Mother is going to meet someone there. She mentions his name under her breath. It is not father. A cloud of cigarette smoke welcomes us inside. Men say terrible things to her, and I don’t know what any of it means, only that it upsets mother. That is all I remember.