My Stepmother Claimed I Was Not Stable In Court Until The Judge Removed His Glasses

forward slightly. Curtis clicked his pen. Aunt Colette’s hands were folded in her lap. They were all waiting for the breakdown, for the tears or the outburst or the confused fumbling that would confirm the story they had been told.

I stood up slowly. I buttoned my blazer. I looked directly at Diane, not at the judge, not at the gallery, at her. I held continue reading …