A Spotless Life
Language: en
Three months postpartum, and I broke my leg. My husband, Mark, felt terrible for me. He spared no expense, hiring the most sought-after maternity nurse in the city. The deposit alone was five thousand dollars. My mom was looking over the nurse’s resume, gushing with praise and just about to call to have her start the next day. I pressed the end-call button on her phone. “Don’t bother. Aunt Brenda is about to swoop in and try to steal her.” For as long as I can remember, my mother has played the role of a living saint. The second my aunt’s family started crying poor, every good thing we had…