“I think Mutti Frida probably thinks that you at least know that she was in a concentration camp.”My mother nodded, thoughtfully.“Well, I am als... sure that she does not expect you to talk about it with anyone else. She is trusting you on that even though she hasn’t asked you to keep it secret.”My mother looked down at her hands on the table and then looked back up at me. “There’s more to that story that you are not telling me, isn’t there?”I returned my mother’s gaze. Once again, I couldn’t. "She was reaching for the cupboard and grabbed a pill for me."That's why you keep having your accidents," she said. "You want to grow up with hairy tits?" Mom!" I stared at her. "I take my pills! I just forgot this morning." You forget that one a lot," she said as I swallowed it down. "Good girl. You're going to be so sexy!" I'm already sexy," I giggled. "Everybody says so." Oh, they do, huh?" Mom took my glass and plate away. "And I suppose you're flirting with all the boys too." No!" I. More

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