Gabi’s relationship with Brad was distant. In the morning by the time she was ready for breakfast, Brad had already gone to work.
I dropped her at school sometimes, other times she wanted to go with friends.
In the evenings, when Brad was home and we were sitting down to dinner, often Gabi said she had already eaten, and either sit glaring at the table or make a show of asking permission to go to her room.
‘Family’ time was rare.
On weekends and holidays she was with her father, so there was little interaction between us.
In fact, she didn’t know I was pregnant until nearly my sixth month when she sneered; “You are getting a pot belly..”
I looked at her, and before I could speak she realised and exclaimed; “You’re Pregnant!” as if she was the mother and I the teen aged daughter.
Then she asked; “Does Brad know?”
She made a disdainful hum and went on her way.