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61 " A masterful, charming mystery that will touch your heart in ways you could never expect. The endearing, unforgettable Molly reminds us to challenge our assumptions about one another, and shows us how meaningful it is to feel truly seen in the world. More than a whodunnit, THE MAID is layered—Prose makes us consider how far we’d go for the people we love, and what we owe ourselves above all else. This is the smart, quirky, uplifting read we need. "
― Ashley Audrain , The Push
62 " I started to understand, during those sleepless nights replaying the things I’d overheard, that we are all grown from something. That we carry on the seed, and I was a part of her garden. 1964 Cecilia couldn’t sleep without her doll, Beth-Anne, even at the age of seven. "
63 " Cecilia was always listening for Henry’s footsteps—he would change Etta’s mood like the flip of a light switch. "
64 " Every time she screamed, the rage seemed to pump through her like a drug and Cecilia could see the shame in her face as the high wore off. "
65 " Sometimes, as we paid the bill, I’d find the courage to say what really was on my mind. I threw it out like bait: “This is pretty hard some days, isn’t it? This whole motherhood thing.” “Sometimes. Yeah. But it’s the most rewarding thing we’ll ever do, you know? It’s all so worth it when you see their little faces in the morning.” I studied these women closely, trying to find their lies. They never cracked. They never slipped. "
66 " Motherhood is like that—there is only the now. The despair of now, the relief of now. "
67 " I’ll give you my number,” I said, my face flushed. I had never been comfortable making friends. But I suddenly flashed forward to late-night texting, when we would exchange brutally honest grievances and lament our existence. "
68 " The sadness of the distance that had grown between us again over the past few months was something we didn’t discuss. I was willing to let it fester in the background, and it seemed you were, too. "
69 " All the eggs a woman will ever carry form in her ovaries while she is a four-month-old fetus in the womb of her mother. This means our cellular life as an egg begins in the womb of our grandmother. Each of us spent five months in our grandmother’s womb "
70 " She was trying. He was forgiving. "
71 " It was the first time she told me herself about Etta. I think she might have regretted it afterward, because she was especially cold in the weeks that followed. But I remember wanting to touch her more, wanting to be near her. I remember standing at the side of her bed in the mornings to run my finger softly along her cheekbone, and then tiptoeing out when she started to stir. "
72 " I had her all day, but when you came through the door, she was yours. Patience. Love. Affection. I was grateful for everything you gave her that she didn’t want from me. I watched you two and I was envious. I wanted what you had. "
73 " Your face had changed. Warm. Soft. Your brows lifted more and your mouth was always agape when she was near you. Goofy. You had become a brighter version of the man I knew. "
74 " I brought up the idea of sending Violet to day care a few days a week. You’d said early on, before Violet was even born, that you didn’t like the idea of day care. Your mother had raised her children at home until they were five and went to school. You wanted the same for your own. I had agreed, blindly, heartily. I would do the things you thought perfect mothers did. "
75 " Wait to decide once she’s sleeping better,” you’d reasoned. “You’re just tired right now. I know it’s hard, but this will pass.” You had the nerve to say this as you dressed for work, your face bright, your hair freshly cut. I had listened to you sing in the shower that morning. I was miserable. She and I both were, it seemed. "
76 " But she was missing the inherent sweetness of other children her age. She so rarely showed affection. She didn’t seem happy—not anymore. I saw a sharpness inside her that sometimes looked physically painful. "
77 " We vibrate to the rhythms of our mother’s blood before she herself is born. . . . "
78 " She had plum-colored hammocks under her eyes. "
79 " Well, we can’t blame her.” She winked and cleared our plates. “You’re both very lucky to have him.” And what about him? Isn’t he lucky to have me, too? In "
80 " comfort I found in you was consuming – I had nothing when I met you, and so you effortlessly became my everything. "