You Are My Daughter
She lifted the lid.
Her eyes dropped to what was inside.
And the sound that came out of her was not a word or a lecture or a sneer.
It was a scream, sudden and piercing and utterly involuntary, so sharp that one of the teenage cousins flinched and knocked a water glass over onto the rug, so raw that several relatives half-rose out of their chairs in alarm.
I had never once, in three years, heard Beatrice make an undignified sound.