The burp cloths slipped from my numb fingers. The crinkle of tissue paper sounded like a gunshot in the sudden vacuum of sound. Unbearable. The word hit me like a physical blow, stealing my breath more effectively than any wave of nausea.<\/p>\n
The room went silent. Utterly, completely silent. Thirty-seven people stopped breathing at once.<\/p>\n
My mother\u2019s face flushed. \u201cMarcus, she\u2019s carrying your\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYou don\u2019t understand,\u201d he interrupted, rolling his eyes at the assembled crowd as if they were co-conspirators in his suffering. \u201cShe\u2019s been\u00a0unbearable<\/em>\u00a0since getting pregnant. Constantly complaining about every little thing.\u201d<\/p>\n The burp cloths slipped from my numb fingers. The crinkle of tissue paper sounded like a gunshot in the sudden vacuum of sound. Unbearable. The word hit me like a physical blow, stealing my breath more effectively than any wave of nausea.<\/p>\n
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