They Laughed When Soda Was Dumped in My Lap. That Night, I Removed My Name From the Loan

Their son Mason’s card sat between Greg and my Aunt Patricia, who adored him with the kind of blind devotion usually reserved for saints and golden retrievers.

I set my gift bag beside my chair and sat down. The water glass was already filled, and I began turning it slowly with my fingertips—a nervous habit I’d developed in childhood, something to continue reading …