Twisted Roots Read Online Free PDF Page B

his real child and Claude is his son.
"Does that hurt?" I asked.
"Breast-feeding? Just the opposite. However. you won't find many Palm Beach mothers doing it. They're terrified of losing their figures."
"Aren't you?"
"No," she said firmly. "Besides, I want to do what's best for him." she added.
Then why didn't you do what was best for me? I wanted to ask. but I didn't. I watched for a while, and then, after the nurse returned and took Claude back to the nursery, I went to get Mommy some magazines at the hospital gift shop. When I returned to the room. Miguel was there. He was ranting on and on about his faculty meeting, and Mommy was lying back on the pillow, a smile of amusement painted across her face.
"I mean, they will, they won't. Talk, talk, talk, but no action!" he exclaimed,
"They're afraid. Miguel. They have to talk themselves into it first. It takes time."
"Time is not something they have in abundance here. Willow. Oh, what's the use!" he cried and collapsed in the chair, his arms dangling. The he looked up at me and shook his head.
"Don't marry a schoolteacher unless he's independently wealthy." he told me.
"I'm not getting married." I retorted.
"What? Why not?"
"I want to have a carter."
"Your mother has a career and she's married," he said, nodding at Mommy.
"She's different," I said "She can be a psychologist and stay in one place. I will have to travel, do tours, be in shows. I won't have time for a husband and especially not for a child."
"Sure you will," Miguel said.
"No, I won't. I especially won't be able to breast-feed," I practically screamed.
The smile lifted off his face. He looked at Mommy.
"It's all right. Hannah. You're too young to have to worry about those things anyway." she said. "What did you get me?" she asked. and I brought her the magazines, "Good," she said, looking them over. You guys better go home." she told Miguel.
"Sure," he said. standing. "I'll be back after dinner." He leaned over and kissed her softly on the mouth.
"Thank you for my son." he whispered loud enough for me to hear.
She beamed.
I turned toward the door. "Hannah?" she called, holding up her arms.
I went to her and let her embrace and kiss me on the cheek, but my own lips were still stuck in a firm pout.
"Take care of Miguel." she said. "Make sure he eats a real dinner and doesn't stop at some taco stand and call that a meal," she added, eyeing him with pretended fury.
He laughed. "She reads my mind, that woman. No wonder she is such a successful psychotherapist."
If she could only read mine. I thought, she would know how deep the hurt I felt was and how it seemed to travel through my body, even affecting the way I walked. Miguel insisted on stopping by the nursery on our way out.
"One more look to be sure it's all real," he said.
Little Claude was contentedly asleep, his tummy full of Mommy's milk. There was no umbilical cord between them, but he was still dependent on her.
He wasn't a day old, and he was already more a part of this family than I had ever been. I thought.
Maybe more than I would ever be.
    2
Brothers and Sisters
.
Suddenly I was the center of attention for all
    my friends at school. They practically attacked me with their questions when I returned the following day. With Mommy in the hospital. I had use of her car. It was one of those rare heavily overcast days with a marine layer that grew thicker and thicker with every passing hour, the clouds rolling aver each other and growing darker, looking mare scuffed and bruised, until the skies exploded in thunder and seared the underbelly of the stormy ceiling with lightning. Finally a downpour brought some cool air, but the clouds still seemed embedded in my thoughts, and the lightning still sizzled in my eyes.
    My girlfriends surrounded me as soon as I entered the building. They fired their questions in shotgun fashion.
    "How much did your little brother weigh?" "What does he look more like?"
"Does he look at all like you?"
"What's his name?
"Why did they