Bored, I’m looking at the drawing on the pavement and a funny little girl smeared with chalk.
“Why isn’t there a dad in the picture?” I ask curiously.
“Not everyone has a dad,” she says sadly, pressing her lips together, and throws the chalk onto the asphalt.
Her grandmother on the bench watches me disapprovingly.
Yeah, I probably said something stupid. Such a sweet little girl—how could anyone refuse someone like that. Her father is a fool.
“Thank you for watching her…” I hear a familiar, breathless voice.
I turn around… Who??? She???
“Mom!!! Look what I drew!”—my former little baby runs over with bright laughter.
I stare at Katya, stunned, quickly calculating how old the girl is. Damn—did she lie about an abortion?