“Your Kids Can Eat at Home,” My Dad Said—So When the Waiter Returned, I Stood Up

bedroom would create dangerous temperature fluctuations. As if Jenna’s hands hadn’t been the ones that let go in the first place.

That became the pattern that would define my childhood and follow me into adulthood: if Jenna messed up, someone else should have planned better, protected her more carefully, anticipated the problem she’d created.

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