Gina is 18 years old, 5 foot 3 with cornrows. Seated on the couch next to her father, she’s trying to choose the right time to reveal what she knows he already knows. Her mother told him after she found the paperwork Gina hid in her bedroom closet.
It’s January. Afternoon. A Sunday. Gina sits staring directly in front of a picture of a contemporary art mandala hanging on a white living room wall of her father’s apartment. To her left are built-in bookshelves.
To her right, Dad sits on his cantaloupe leather sofa. Behind the back of the couch, another white wall with multiple framed images of Albert Einstein. Underneath her feet, green wall-to-wall-carpeting. Gina and her father sit and stare directly ahead. Gina talks and talks around the thing she can’t figure out how to reveal. Even though she knows he already knows.
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