Stings Like A Bee

I am in a book club.  My friend L, the sister of my high school chum that died in a car accident a year ago, enticed me to join this past winter.  I adore reading and while I was a bit hesitant at first...cue the stupid adoption-brain (will they like me or will I be an outsider?)...I actually am forming bonds with these women. 

On a side note, it might just be me but I'm always surprised when people remember my name when I've only seen them a few times.  I pride myself on remembering names very easily but again, it makes me happy when others do the same with me.  And the women in the book club know my name.

So, back to book club.  L knows most of my history now.  We've had long, indepth conversations about my life and hers.  I've made my opinions pretty clear on where I stand on the adoption issue. 

During our "meeting"  (really, we talk about the book for about fifteen minutes and then drink wine and eat the rest of the time..lol), L was talking about her friend's son.  He's apparently a terror...and L doesn't like to have him play with her daughter because he's so rough.  He slammed Em's hand in a door on their last playdate, on purpose, and L said "If that was my kid, I'd give him up for adoption!"

I couldn't help myself...

"That's not funny L", I blurted out angrily.

**crickets**

Then she said, "I'm sorry Christina...I really didn't mean it the way that sounded."

The rest of the women stared at me until I explained, "I'm adopted". 

I know for a fact that L didn't mean it to come out the way she said it...she's the kindest person I know and is now one of my closest friends.  But it still stings.