Facing the Frozen Ocean

You can't trust anyone who isn't your blood. "My husband is really a second-class citizen," she said. "I used to be pretty crazy about him, but then the baby came along. Now, if he's like, 'Could you please get me a Diet Coke? I tell him to buzz off." Meanwhile, a small, wary crowd had gathered in the middle of the loft. Wobbling a bit was a tiny girl wearing pink ballet slippers and a tutu. "Brooke insisted on wearing her ballet outfit today. Isn't it adorable?" said a tall, beaming woman. "When I tried to put pants on her, she started crying. She knew. She knew she had to wear her ballet outfit today so she could put on a performance, didn't she, pumpkin? Didn't she, pumpkin?" The woman stooped, her hands clasped to her chest, her head cocked, and her face frozen in a large fake smile inches from the child's face. Then she began making odd gesturing motions. "Blow a kiss. Blow a kiss," she said. The little girl, smiling fixedly, brought her little palm to her mouth and then whooshed out air between her hps. The mother screamed wildly. "She curtseys, too," Amanda said with some derision to Carrie. "She does tricks ...»