"hey, you know your mom was pregnant with your sister when she died."

my father blurted out in the snack aisle of a 24 hour Pathmark.

 

Just like that, in the middle of me stuffing Doritos into my mouth, I not only found out that my mother was pregnant, but that girl would have been my baby sister. On this day she would have been 11 to my 16.  

 

in a nanosecond, I had to figure out the best response.

 

"Did not know that dad, why would I know that, no one ever told me that tidbit of information," I said, swallowing a sharp unchecked corner of a chip, my fingers orange with spicy nacho flavor.  Wiping my hands on my Jordache jeans, I listened to him take his foot out of his mouth.

 

"Grandma Irene never told you?

Sorry, I thought she did."  

 

That was it.  We finished getting the groceries
and climbed back into his car and headed home.  

 

"Did I ever tell you about the time when..." I tuned out.  

 

I don't want to know more things.

 

My ears were burning from the almost
sister story just a few minutes before.

 

He rambled on, I grunted a few sounds as if I
was listening, but my thoughts wandered way
back to a dark corner in my mind, a place I drift to
usual before I fall asleep.  

 

In my mind's eye, I saw two things simultaneously,

 

on one side was my mother in her bed with a
a pronounced hump of a belly

 

on the other screen was a
small girl playing

with me.