The Writer Is Supported

We talked a little more, until Emma took a deep breath and tried to clear this foggy situation up, somewhat.

“Okay, let me get this straight: your mother married the Sandman’s father.”

“Right,” I confirmed, voice still wavering.

“They split a few months later because…” she took a pause to remember, and then resumed her sentence. “Because she couldn’t have kids, correct?”

I nodded, and then spoke a hasty ‘yes’ into the phone.

“And then Mr. Hotshot married this ultra-super-duper-uber model, right?”

“You can put it that way…”

“And they had Sandman.”


“AIDS, the guy is screwed up. I need to decapitate him, or sumjunk. Your mom was the best woman I ever knew. Don’t get me started on my mother.”

I knew how Emma felt about her parents.

To put it in short: she wanted to be as far away possible from them.

I think that sums it up well.

“Thanks, Emma.”

“Geez, don’t go teary on me!”

A crash was heard on her line of the phone.

“Gotta go, AIDS . Hasta la pasta, amiga.”

View this story's 4 comments.