“So... I’m thirty, and I think she must have had me when she was very young—nineteen, twenty?
So she’ll be... I’d guess she’d be in her early fifties now, something like that?”
Raymond nodded. “Right,” he said. “So... I’m wondering... I mean, I don’t have kids, so what would I know—but I imagine it can’t be easy,
lodging in an opium den in Tangier if you’ve got a toddler with you? Or... what was the other thing?
Working as a blackjack dealer in Macao?He spoke very gently, as though he were afraid to upset me.
I mean, if you added up all the things she said she’d done, wouldn’t it cover a longer period than thirty years?
Unless she did it all before you were born and she was still a teenager.
And if she did... well, I’m wondering... where did she get the money from, to do all that traveling,
and wasn’t she a bit young to be going to places like that on her own at that age?
What about your dad? Where did she meet him?I looked away. These were important questions that I couldn’t answer.
Questions I wasn’t sure I wanted to answer. But really, why hadn’t I ever thought about them before?
This conversation with Raymond came back to me the next time I spoke to her.
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