The Birthday Party Where My Mother’s Perfect Image Cracked

the part where she disowned me. I didn’t start with “lowly single mom.” I started with the numbers.

“367 likes,” I whispered into the quiet of my living room. “Eighty-nine comments.”

It was a Wednesday evening. The dishes were still in the sink. The TV hummed softly with some kids’ show I’d forgotten to turn off after dinner. The room smelled faintly continue reading …