The rice was still in my mouth, and I remembered that a long time ago, someone else had cursed at me the same way.
I lost my arms the year I turned ten, right at the age when a child learns shame.
The strange looks, the classmates' laughter, the raw pain of the wounds—all of it pulled me down, a little at a time, toward the bottom.
Back then I ate with my head bowed, just like a dog.
It was Director Swanson who caught me as I fell.
She said,
"A person can lose a limb, but never lose heart!"
"Once the heart is crippled, living is nothing but suffering."
"Child, remember this. Take one stroke away from the word for jade, and you have the word for king."
"A flawed piece of jade isn't a flaw. It's a king without a crown."
After that, she spent countless days and nights teaching me how to eat, how to dress, how to live without depending on anyone.
My mother pressed at her brow, a thread of reproach in her voice.
"Sharon, really. If you don't like these dishes, you can just tell me, and I'll have the housekeeper make what you like."
"Look at you now. How is this any way for a girl to behave? Don't blame your father for scolding you either. He only wants what's best for you."
"Go on, apologize to your father, and don't do it again."
With the rice still in my mouth, I spoke, the words coming out thick and unclear.
"Dad, it isn't what you think. I actually—"
"Sis, Dad went over the rules just one second ago, and you're already doing this. You're not deliberately going against him, are you!"
"You've got so much attitude, Sis. I'll bet nobody out there ever dared push you around all these years."
Marlene's words were nothing but oil on the fire.
Sure enough, my father slammed his chopsticks down on the table, and the ceramic snapped into pieces.
"Sharon Swanson, this is the Abbott house, not some place for strays."
"While you're here, I expect you to drop that low-class act you learned out there."
"If you don't want to eat, then get down."
"When you've learned to eat with your hands, you can sit back at this table."
The explanation lodged in my chest and wouldn't come out.
I looked at the half bowl of white rice left in front of me and slowly stood.
So in the Abbott house, if you had no hands, you weren't allowed at the table.
Back in the guest room, a few crackers were still on the desk.
I got them down with water, and only then did I feel even a little full.
A sharp pain shot up from the stumps of both arms. Ever since I'd started wearing the shaping brace,
the phantom pain had been coming more and more often.
It was as if both arms were being crushed all over again. I dropped to my knees on the floor, shaking all over, unable to stop.
Ten minutes later.
I got up unsteadily, meaning to go downstairs and get some air outside.
I'd just reached the top of the stairs when I came face to face with Marlene, on her way up after dinner.
"Sis, why are your eyes so red? Don't tell me you've been hiding in your room crying."
"Serves you right. Who told you to make Dad angry? If you ask me, someone like you should never have come back at all."
"Just crawl back to your orphanage while you can. Stop embarrassing everyone and making the whole family miserable."
I glanced at her. I didn't have the energy to deal with her at all.
That spoiled-heiress temper of Marlene's flared up in an instant.
"Sharon Swanson, I'm talking to you. Are you deaf?"
She shoved me, and it wrenched the wound on my shoulder.
The pain crashed over me again, so bad I nearly blacked out. I braced my foot against the railing, and only that kept me from falling.
If there'd been a mirror, I'd have seen how frighteningly white my own face had gone.
"Hey, don't you dare fake an injury. I barely touched you. Do you have to put on an act like this?"
The sight of me scared Marlene into stumbling backward.
She'd forgotten the stairs were right behind her. Her foot found nothing, and her whole body pitched back.
Pure bodily instinct made her throw out a hand toward me.
"Sharon Swanson, save me."
I had no hands. I couldn't grab her. I could only watch as she tumbled down the stairs, her head split open and bleeding.
"Marlene, what's wrong? Don't frighten Mom, please."
"Gerald, go get the car, quick, take her to the hospital."
Hearing the noise, my parents came out to look, and the sight of Marlene lying in a pool of blood drained the color from their faces.
That was when my father looked up and saw me, my face white as death.
His eyes were cold, cold enough to freeze me solid.
"Sharon Swanson, what exactly did you do!"
