The two of us are linked forever, you see—same blood in my veins that’s running through yours.
You grew inside me, your teeth and your tongue and your cervix are all made from my cells, my genes.
Who knows what little surprises I left growing inside there for you, which codes I set running?
Breast cancer? Alzheimer’s? You’ll just have to wait and see.
You were fermenting inside me for all those months, nice and cozy, Eleanor.
However hard you try to walk away from that fact, you can’t, darling, you simply can’t. It isn’t possible to destroy a bond that strong.”
“That may or may not be true, Mummy,” I said quietly. Such audacity. I don’t know where I found the courage.
The blood was pounding through my body and my hands quivered.
She responded as though I had not spoken. “Right, so we’ll keep in touch, yes?
You carry on with your little project, and I’ll speak to you at the same time next week? That’s settled, then. Must dash—cheerio!”
It was only when the air went dead that I noticed I’d been crying.
Friday at last. When I arrived at the office, my colleagues were already clustered around the kettle, talking about soap operas.
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