Glancing up to watch her read. You would be a really good mother, he says, quietly, and she holds her breath for a moment, wiping her fingers beneath her eye.

At home he opens the fridge, shakes a box of rice milk, drinks the last thin slosh from the carton, leaving it on the counter for his father; Xie hasn’t taken out the garbage in years because if he does he will end up immobilized in the driveway with a pile of his own shit. I think Karen had an abortion, Xie says, watching Erik fold the carton in half with the side of his hand. Erik frowns. What? She told you that? Xie shrugs. Sort of, yeah. Why would she talk to you about that? You don’t need to hear about her personal life. Xie slicing a head of cabbage, its leaves shattering crisply on either side of the knife. He puts a piece in his mouth, chews, adds the rest to the soup, carrots, parsnips, sweet potato, corn, no recipe, just what is on hand, not thinking, pinching herbs from their pots: parsley, basil, oregano. Chopping, slow, the tiny dark wet edges clinging to the blade, he hates to cut, to pull the vegetables from the beds, he knows all about chemical terror in plants, their sensitivity to danger, to death, nothing ever. Simply submits. He slides the herbs into the bottom of the bowls. Tip of his finger against the blade. He breaks up a sheet of crackers, puts them on a plate. Did Mom want to have an abortion? he asks. Erik pauses. Did she what? Did she want to have me. Speaking into his soup. The herbs floating in a circle. Why do you say that? I’m not judging her, I was just curious. Erik lowers his spoon, looks directly at his son. We both wanted you very much. But you didn’t plan it? No, but that doesn’t mean anything. It’s okay to tell me the truth. I am telling you the truth, Xie, what the hell. Dropping a cracker in his bowl. Didn’t you know it would be hard? Why would it be hard? Because Mom. Had problems. Your mother’s problems aren’t your problems, Xie. I just don’t get why you would take the chance, Xie insists. What chance? She was pregnant and she had you and we were happy with that. We didn’t think of another option. There was no other option. Okay? Erik snapping more crackers between his hands. He knows his father eats meat outside the house, has seen receipts, fast-food cups and burger wrappers in the truck, they had fought about it before and Erik had said, exasperated, I do it your way all the time, every day, I eat what you want, I buy what you want, why isn’t it enough? But it isn’t enough. Erik putting his spoon down, a little too hard, dull thump against the tablecloth. Look, if your teacher has an abortion it’s because she has reasons for not being a mother, and I can’t speak to what those reasons might be, but I can tell you that it’s not a choice I would have made because I don’t think the world is made worse by bringing a life into it. But what if that life is evil? Xie says, thumbing his water glass. Erik’s hard squint. You mean you, or…? I mean life. Shrug. Human life. Xie, I’m losing the thread here. Xie takes a deep breath. Did you talk her out of having an abortion. Erik staring but Xie just sits there, waiting him out, until Erik gives up, face hanging over the awful soup. In the beginning, yes, I did. Silence. Sorry, this is crap, Xie says, reaching for his father’s bowl, but Erik says, Leave it. Chewing the uncooked carrots. Xie goes to the kitchen, gets a bar of chocolate from the panty, eats it square by square in some weird penance; he doesn’t even like chocolate. Erik puts his hand out; Xie passes him the remainder of the bar. How’s the garden doing with the cold? Fine, Xie answers. Looking out the window. Scratching his cheek. Erik leans across the corner of the table. Takes Xie’s face in his hands. Kisses it.