Not my mother, who had built her entire life around the performance of family. Not my father, who had been quietly letting me absorb his failures for years. Not Jessica, whose rent, tuition, car insurance, and occasional little “emergencies” had all somehow found their way to my wallet every single month without anyone ever calling it what it was.
Support.
Dependence.
Extraction.
I sat in my car with my hands on the steering wheel and watched my breath fog the windshield. The porch light glowed behind me. Inside, I could see shadows moving through the dining room. The holiday went on without me almost immediately. Plates passed. Candles flickered. Somebody laughed.
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