It was an accident. A meaningless, sticky accident.<\/p>\n
Holly didn\u2019t see it that way. She lunged, grabbing Oliver\u2019s arm with a violence that stopped the conversation at three nearby tables. She yanked him upward, her nails digging into his skin.<\/p>\n
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\u201cThis is what happens!\u201d she shrieked, her voice cutting through the humid air. \u201cThis is what happens when\u00a0bastards\u00a0don\u2019t have fathers to teach them manners!\u201d<\/p>\n
The silence that followed was absolute. It was a vacuum. Oliver burst into tears, terrified not by the word, which he didn\u2019t understand, but by the venom in his aunt\u2019s face. He looked at me, his eyes swimming with confusion. \u201cMommy, what\u2019s a bastard?\u201d<\/p>\n
I looked around the gathering. I looked at my parents, who were studying their paper plates. I looked at my aunts and uncles, who were suddenly fascinated by the coleslaw. No one moved. No one spoke. No one defended him.<\/p>\n
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