I stared at my reflection in the mirror. Everyone had said that they didn’t remember. No one did. No one remembered me. Still, I turned from the mirror and turned to my family. They stared at me. They didn’t believe me. My father sighed as he said, “I am sorry, ma’am.”

“But father.”

I reached out to him but he backed away. The look on his face tore through me. It hurt. My heart hurt. I pressed my lips together as I looked at my mother. Mother said, “Honey, let’s go.”

“Wait, wait.” I put my hands up getting in their way.

“What?” It was stone cold.

“Listen, listen. When my sister was born. She wasn’t breathing. It took a lot to get her going. Who would know that?”

Their eyes narrowed on me.

“Mom, you had 3 miscarriages before you had Marta.” I looked them in their eyes.

Mother’s eyes darkened. “I had 4.”

I blanked. She meant me. One of them was me. I pressed my lips together. “One made it all the way.”

“No.”

She pushed me away and I fell on the ground. My blood ran cold as I watched them walk away. What was I going to do? I had nothing.