Claudia says doubtfully. I watch my sister. She is currently perched halfway up the apple tree at the bottom of the garden like a ten-year-old boy, reading a celebrity magazine. Unlike most ten-year-old boys, however, she has a cigarette in one hand and bottle of Budweiser gripped between her knees. Her skirt barely covers her bottom, and the holey black leggings reveal at least three of her tattoos. Her flip-flops are silver, her toenails purple. She didn’t stagger home till two this morning; I suspect her “morning sickness” at breakfast time owed more to her hangover than her hormones. As Claudia points out, Susannah neither acts—nor looks—pregnant at all. “You are sure she actually is?” Claudia adds. “I don’t want to be mean, but you know what she’s like.” I want to defend Susannah, but there’s not much I can say. My sister is actually proud of the fact that she faked pregnancy to gull her first and third husbands into marriage, as if it’s a credit to her ingenuity.
What do You think about What's Yours Is Mine (2011)?
