cnu-At my fortieth birthday party, my sister swung a baseball bat into…

child, when our mother once complimented my kitchen before complimenting hers.

Rage, but not wild rage.

Entitled rage.

The kind that believes it has been personally insulted by the word no.

“Vanessa!” I shouted.

She did not look at me.

Emma was still holding the handlebars, trying to keep the bike steady while Brooklyn half-sat, half-slid off the seat. My continue reading …