Friday August 17, 2018
My father makes the sign of the cross and asks me what he can do to help. I tell him nothing, what’s done is done. He says that there’s always something to be done, and I say, “Not this time there isn’t.”
At confession I tell Father Mendes that I had to have an abortion and he gasps.
At school Maria holds my hand walking down the hall and I feel all eyes on me. I used to be invisible.
My mother won’t look me in the eye, and mutters prayers under her breath when we’re in the same room.