Page Elwel did not like her son. It was the irritation of responsibility. Being a sociopath meant she didn’t actually feel guilt for abandoning her son. Instead, she experienced constant annoyance that her son required her for certain basic needs: emotional nurturance, food, clothing, shelter.
But he was not merely an irritation. She saw him as a burden. Something to rid herself of as soon as possible.
Which is what she did. Once, she had almost achieved this with little effort. It had been at her mother’s house, on the water in Gloucester. Antony had been walking along the edge of the pool. He was 4. She hadn’t warned him not to. Just watched coolly as she sipped her afternoon aperitif.
He slipped and fell. Swallowing water, flailing frantically.
Suddenly, a hand reached him and grabbed him by the scruff. Antony was spewing water, crying, choking.
It was his mother's boyfriend who had saved him.
It was his mother's boyfriend who had saved him.
Page had not moved. She was laughing.
“Don’t laugh! Why are you laughing,” he cried.
“Oh, shush,” she scolded. "Besides, it's funny." And returned to her drink.
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