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When my husband's wto grown daughters are in town, the three of them go to the movies, or
play pool. Share dinner every night. Stay out late. I haven't seen my stepdaughters since my
son's funeral in 2007. When people ask, I say nice things about the girls, as if we had a
relationship. When people ask if I have children I change the subject. Or I lie, and say no. Or
sometimes I put them on the spot and tell them yes, but he died. They look aghast and want to
know what happened. Then I have to tell them about the cancer.
Sometimes, when the older daughter, his favorite, is in town, and she and my husband are out
together night after night, I wonder what it would be like if that was me, and my boy, if life
was fair, and rather tahn my husband having two children and I, none, we each had one living child.
His choice which one to keep.
Lately when people ask, I want to lie and say yes, my son is a basketball coach; he married
a beautiful Iranian model with kind eyes, and they live in London with their twin girls who visit
every summer, the same twins his girlfriend aborted. with my blessing when my son was
eighteen, deemed too young for fatherhood, and everyone said there would be all the time in the