The Shame of Being Excluded From the Elite Group of Children Who Have Fathers

I knew that Tanya didn't have a father and for some reason I assumed that he was dead, like mine. My grandmother's sister died of a stroke too, Tanya said. She was in a coma. I don't think she pooped at all. How did your father die? I asked. Her face turning red the way that it had at the tea with parents. He's away on a business trip in America. He misses me every day. The next day at school, I tried to avoid Tanya. I cried on and off for the rest of the day. Perhaps what I was feeling was shame. Not just the mortification of having made the wrong assumption about