Priviledged

When I was 13 my mother suddenly decided us kids would be fed separately from my parents by our live-in Barbados maid Jean, so my mother could have supper later, alone with my step-father. She closed the glass dining room doors that had never been closed before, to have privacy.

I came downstairs to say hello to my dad. When I opened the glass door my eyes glanced at their empty plates, my mother opened the clear glass Pyrex casserole lid. Inside I saw a brain just like in a horror movie. "Calves brains!" she said. "Aren't you glad you're not eating dinner with us?"

The answer was No, I am not. but I never said a word. I just stopped eating, period.