“The young woman with Down syndrome?”
Ethan’s face hardened.
“Her name is Clara.”
“I know her name,” my mother said quickly. “I’m only trying to understand.”
My father stood.
“How long have you been seeing her?”
“Almost a year.”
“A year?” I said. “You never told us.”
“We wanted privacy.”
My mother pressed a hand to her chest.
“Why are you marrying so quickly?”
Ethan looked toward the window.
That small hesitation frightened me.
Then he said, “Clara is six months pregnant.”
The room became completely still.
My mother’s lips parted, but no sound came out.
My father stared at Ethan.
“Is the baby yours?”
Ethan did not answer immediately.
I stepped closer.
“Ethan, is the baby yours?”
“No.”
My mother sat down heavily.
My father’s face turned red.
“You are marrying a woman who is carrying another man’s child?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Ethan’s voice remained calm.
“Because I want to.”
“That is not an answer.”
