““So I really, really can’t take you being a bitch right now.” Mimi ran her hands through her hair, and her bangs puffed up like a pompadour. “You don’t get special days off to be an asshole,” she said. Upstairs, the baby squawked. Mimi added, “But, I’m sorry your dad is dead. It sucks. I know.” She did. Mimi’s parents died when she was in college. Her inheritance paid for the down payment on our gallery. She paused, her legs already turned to the stairs but her face still turned to me, some expression flickering beneath her eyes. “I love you.” I fumbled for her hand, but she slipped it away. “Sorry I called you a bitch.” Eliot screamed. “It’s okay. Well, no it’s not, but I’m too fucking tired to think about it.” Mimi turned around, already heading up the stairs. “I don’t suppose you’re going to deal with your daughter.” “How am I supposed to deal with her?” I replied. “Do I have breasts?” Mimi had already left the room.””
