She was sitting in the tub, a fever threatening and a belly full of upset. She’d been trying to get comfortable for an hour; multiple trips to the bathroom to vomit proving unproductive. At one point I even told her how to help herself throw up. It terrified me, like handing a match to a child. She looked horrified, so I’d suggested the bath. We were quiet, nothing but the soft sound of the bubbles settling, until she spoke. “Mom, do you remember the girl I went to preschool with who goes to my school now?” “Did she have long, brown hair? Her mom works at the school?” She looked uncertain. “She was bigger than some of the other kids, right?” She nodded, “Yeah,…

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