The Birthday Party Where My Mother’s Perfect Image Cracked

sat at the head table in a navy dress, Marcus beside her looking uncomfortable in a tie.

And there, in the center of it all, was my mother in a cream-colored suit, mid-laugh at something someone said.

She saw me and the laugh died.

The room went quiet, conversation dropping like dominoes.

“Erica,” she said. Not a greeting. A warning.

“Hi, Mom. Happy birthday.continue reading …