BooksBarbecue
Back All the Water in the World
Chapters (62)
  1. Cover
  2. Dedication
  3. PART I
  4. Eve
  5. 1
  6. Maddy
  7. 2
  8. 3
  9. 4
  10. 5
  11. Eve
  12. 6
  13. Maddy
  14. 7
  15. 8
  16. 9
  17. 10
  18. Eve
  19. 11
  20. Maddy
  21. 12
  22. 13
  23. 14
  24. 15
  25. PART II
  26. Eve
  27. 16
  28. 17
  29. 18
  30. 19
  31. Maddy
  32. 20
  33. 21
  34. Eve
  35. 22
  36. 23
  37. Maddy
  38. 24
  39. 25
  40. Eve
  41. 26
  42. 27
  43. PART III
  44. Eve
  45. 28
  46. 29
  47. 30
  48. 31
  49. 32
  50. 33
  51. 34
  52. 35
  53. 36
  54. 37
  55. 38
  56. 39
  57. Coda
  58. 40
  59. Acknowledgments
  60. Reading Group Guide
  61. About the Author
  62. Copyright

I stood up so suddenly I banged my shin on the bed frame. Cloud jumped to the floor, astonished and possibly insulted, but she did her Ragdoll thing when I lifted her back on the bed and I was forgiven. At the window I watched Robin get into his VW and grin like a chimpanzee in the rearview mirror to check his teeth before driving off. He is more vain than Mom, who is one of the least vain people I know. I’m always catching him in the hallway mirror, pulling faces. If he sees me he laughs and shouts, “Hey! Can’t a person have any privacy around here?” Maybe it’s because, no offense, he is quite ordinary-looking and not very tall. It’s obvious to anyone that he is not my real dad. Don’t get me wrong: I like Robin. He is a Good Thing in Mom’s life, especially now.

I went to my dresser and picked things up. The charm bracelet Grandma gave me when I was ten. I love the little scissors. They even cut. The picture of me and Mom at Cape Cod. She’s in a black one-piece, holding both the hands of this bald munchkin who is turning around and screaming because the waves are on her feet. How weird is that? I know it’s me, but I don’t really believe it, as in really know it to be true in the way that I know I am standing at my dresser holding this frame, which has silver flecks on it, and I know my fingernails are painted half red and half pink. I did them last night before bed. I am absolutely, one hundred percent certain that I am in my bedroom looking down at my nails and they are half pink, half red, with black spots on the pink side. Whereas in the frame, that could be any cute kid.

Who would have guessed that heads are so glossy underneath? And that I would ever be seeing mine?

Wink at the reflection. Tuck chin. Do that pistol-fingers thing. Give him the come-on smile. Click fingers of both hands twice, high in the air. Olé, suckers! Flamenco señoritas are the queens; those ruffled men stomping around them are necessary but, let’s face it, somewhat ridiculous. Anyway, this is my parentage coming through, and you can’t get away from that.