“Your kids wait in the car during dinner — the twins don’t like them,” my sister said at Mom’s birthday. Mom nodded. It was 30°F outside. I took my kids home. At 9 pm, Mom texted: “The heat stopped working. Call your guy.” I replied: “My guy doesn’t like you.” Then she remembered whose name was on the gas bill…

The Architecture of Boundaries

Chapter 1: The Frost at the Birthday Table

The decree was handed down in the foyer, surrounded by the scent of roasting garlic and the suffocating warmth of forced-air heating.