Chapter 21

“It’s perhaps the only interesting thing about him,” she observed.

“You don’t even know him!”

“Isn’t that why we’re having dinner?” she countered. “Meet and greet? Press the flesh? Getting to know you? Should we play party games? Will that help?”

“By the way, my son is not retarded,” I blurted out, surprised at how angry I still was about that little comment.

“You really are very sensitive, aren’t you?” She took a long drag on her vape pen. “Words are just words. People put too much emphasis on words. Everyone has to be so politically correct. How boring.”

“I’m sure there’s a nicer word for people who pick on children with disabilities,” I said, “but I’ll settle for bitch.”

“But I ama bitch, dear. Haven’t you figured that out? God knows I have my reasons.”

“Well, then I guess that’sokay,” I snapped.

Jackson gasped a little bit.