What do you think?
Rate this book


260 pages, Kindle Edition
First published September 16, 2021
Who was she at all? Just a random woman in her thirties whose fine little life was falling apart. Impossible to isolate the problem. The break-up, which was connected to the apartment, which was connected to her job and her friends and her family, which was connected to the past, to her father, to Elaine, to the shared womb, to the mother they’d been cut out of thirty-six weeks later, to her scarred stomach that had never recovered. And who was so connected to where, all the messy ‘W’s, really, and the worst one of all: why. Why were any of them here? She was not suicidal—just a healthy appreciation of death. She’d known it from such a young age that it was impossible not to consider it, frequently, deeply. And maybe that was connected to the way she lived now, but on the other hand, she had a talent for hunger
And they were jumbling, the images, the faces: Peter standing tall with his news of the future, and Ray pulling his chair closer, and then their mother, her mother, the metallic sheen of her eyes and the clawed hands of all that worry and hurt. Kate could see herself too, could see the four of them now sat around the table, existing in the same space together. Surviving. Really, she thought, they were all strange, troubled individuals but beside each other, they were very clearly a family. You could not call it anything else. It was all they had, and it might be enough.