At 18 My Dad Told Me to Leave and Gave My Room to My Sister

in the Hollises’ guest room under a quilt that smelled like lavender fabric softener. For four seconds I didn’t remember. Then it hit, all of it at once, and I lay there staring at the ceiling while my chest caved in.

Diane was at the stove when I came downstairs. Rachel sat at the kitchen table in her pajamas, red-eyed. Nobody rushed me. Nobody asked continue reading …