are premature. Mine were all postmature. That's why they're so smart.
Their brains had longer to develop."
Dad said something about freaks of nature, and Mom called Dad a Mr.
Know-It-All Smarty-Pants who refused to believe that she was special.
Dad said something about Jesus H. Christ on a goddamn crutch not
taking that much time to gestate. Mom got upset at Dad's blasphemy,
reached her foot over to the driver's side, and stomped on the brake. It
was the middle of the night, and Mom bolted out of the car and ran into
the darkness.
"You crazy bitch!" Dad hollered. "Get your goddamn ass back in this
car!"
"You make me, Mr. Tough Guy!" she screamed as she ran away.
Dad jerked the steering wheel to one side and drove off the road into the
desert after her. Lori, Brian, and I braced one another with our arms, like
we always did when Dad went on some wild chase that we knew would
get bumpy.
Dad stuck his head out the window as he drove, hollering at Mom,
calling her a. "stupid whore" and a. "stinking cunt" and ordering her to
get back into the car. Mom refused. She was ahead of us, bobbing in and
out of the desert brush. Since she never used curse words, she was
calling Dad names like. "blankety-blank" and. "worthless drunk so-and-
so." Dad stopped the car, then jammed down the accelerator and popped
the clutch. We shot forward toward Mom, who screamed and jumped out
of the way. Dad turned around and went for her again.
It was a moonless night, so we couldn't see Mom except when she ran
into the beam of the headlights. She kept looking over her shoulder, her
eyes wide like a hunted animal's. We kids cried and begged Dad to stop,
but he ignored us. I was even more worried about the baby inside Mom's