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Back A Small Affair Save as PDF
Chapters (54)
  1. Cover
  2. Praise
  3. Dedication
  4. About the Author
  5. Part One
  6. 1
  7. 2
  8. 3
  9. 4
  10. 5
  11. 6
  12. 7
  13. 8
  14. 9
  15. 10
  16. 11
  17. 12
  18. 13
  19. 14
  20. 15
  21. Part Two
  22. 1
  23. 2
  24. 3
  25. 4
  26. 5
  27. 6
  28. 7
  29. 8
  30. 9
  31. 10
  32. 11
  33. 12
  34. 13
  35. 14
  36. 15
  37. 16
  38. 17
  39. 18
  40. 19
  41. Part Three
  42. 1
  43. 2
  44. 3
  45. 4
  46. 5
  47. 6
  48. 7
  49. 8
  50. 9
  51. 10
  52. EPILOGUE
  53. ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
  54. Booklist

He opened his mouth, closed it again, his jaw tightening with her every barb. “It’s Vera. I’m seeing Vera. Vera MacDonald. You didn’t have the wherewithal to actually meet her, to get to know her. So I did.”

The knife, it clattered down onto the island, nearly falling off the edge. When she looked up at him, he felt for a moment that he should reach for it, grab the weapon and make a run for it. Her eyes blazed, reflecting the dim light from the stove. She could kill me now, this moment. That was how angry she looked, her face on the verge of a scream, mouth puckered so venomously, a snake about to bite.

The fire alarm went off, smoke billowing off the hot oiled onion pan. And she began to cry.

10

ODILIE

1.5 years ago

She had a plan.

At first, it had been a wish. A dream, something she clung to as she lay in the guest bed in Novi, her lower back aching as her abdomen blossomed into a fuller, rounder protrusion, Penelope resting beside her, sucking a wet thumb with her rosebud lips. Odilie gazed at the clouds painted on the blue ceiling of that bedroom and was at once whisked away to so many mornings and nights spent in the same position in her childhood home, hoping, yearning, aching, to be someone else.

And it struck her, as she lost herself in the whites of those stenciled clouds, that she was right where she’d begun, settled back into the familiar comfort of her own boredom, her own static ways. Though everything had changed, nothing had.

She nestled Penelope closer, sniffing the top of her head. She had hoped that coming to Michigan, that sinking back into her familial roots, would force her to be grateful for the life she led now, the glamour, the wealth, the friends in high places. But Odilie still felt two-dimensional, flimsy, very likely to be swept up by the wind, walked all over, tracked with muddy footprints.

The only way she felt even a modicum of self-respect, of pleasure, of control, was through her mothering. And that was why she had so casually, so easily and remorselessly, gone into her OB-GYN’s office one day nearly four years ago and had her IUD taken out. She wanted someone, something, to mold, to create into the person she so desperately wanted to be.