When I was in the ninth grade I found out that the son of our live in housekeeper was my half brother. That was bad news because I was pregnant with his baby. At first I lied, but my mother drug it out of me and when she found out who the father was she went dead quiet. Nothing could be said to anyone, especially not my father. At first she wanted me to get an abortion, but we decided that was a worse sin, so what next? The facts came out, but for the outside world we made up this story it was some low life from school and it was better that the father never know and I was sent to live with my grandmother until the baby was born. This baby resembled my father, the spitting image of him. He is so proud to have such a good looking grandson, not that he ever approved of me having a baby like that.

I went on to marry a man and have another couple of kids, but they took after his side of the family. My husband adopted my son. My husband doesn't really understand why my half brother and I are such good friends. My son's grandmother still works for the family. Only we know the real truth, and as the years go by it is harder and harder not to say something. At times I think of the poem about a tangled web we weave when we practice to deceive.

My half brother and I quit messing around after I went off to my grandmother's, but it took a long time for us to grow up and accept that we couldn't be together.