“But it’s not like we don’t have friends, am I right? Acquaintances we’ve made along the way. And it’s not like these friends would abandon us in our hour of need. Oh no, not them. They would take any opportunity to hold our fate in their hands. To lord it over us. So we’ve been scurrying from place to place, like rats. And it’s all thanks to you.”

Amber tried getting up. Betty’s knee shot into her chin and she sprawled backwards. Betty paused.

“What was that camp you went to? Eager Beavers, or something like that? Between you and me, Amber, that week you were gone was absolute heaven. You have no idea how stifling you were, you really don’t. We would have sent you to all kinds of camps after that if only you hadn’t been such a baby. Wah, wah, the other kids are horrible. Wah, wah, the other kids hate me. Well, they weren’t the only ones, sweetheart.”

Betty took another step and Amber tried to kick her leg from under her, but Betty saw it coming and stomped hard on Amber’s ankle.

“And now here we are in Alaska,” Betty continued, grinding her heel down. “Alaska. I like the sun, Amber. You know that. I like the heat. I had no intention, ever, of venturing this far north. Yet here I am, in the cold, because of you.”

Betty stepped off her ankle and Amber scrambled up, limping and unsteady.

“Mom, wait—”

“Mom?” Betty laughed. “You’re really going to mom me, after everything you’ve done? After everything you said to us in New York?”

“I didn’t say anything—”

“You said ‘screw you’ to your father,” Betty interrupted. “Disrespecting one of us is disrespecting both of us. That’s what marriage means, Amber.”

“What does family mean, then?” Amber fired back. “Do you have any cosy definitions for that? How about infanticide?”

“Actually, it would be filicide,” Betty corrected. “Infanticide is when a parent kills an infant child. Honestly, just saying those words fills me with such regret. If only we’d killed you in your crib, it would have saved us so much trouble.”

“Jesus Christ. How can you be so … evil?”

“You are such a hypocrite,” her mother said, her eyes clear and bright as she advanced.

Amber stumbled back. “What? What are you talking about?”

“You went to the rallies, Amber. You signed the petitions, chanted the chants, showed your support for a woman’s right to choose. You’re pro-choice, aren’t you?”

Amber frowned. “So are you.”

“Of course I am,” Betty said. “I’m all for terminating unwanted pregnancies.”

“I’m not a pregnancy.”

“You’re still developing, though, into the person you one day hope to become.”

“Is that how you’ve been justifying this to yourself?”