Mom Called Me Damaged at My Sister’s Baby Shower

beside a throne she planned to inherit.

She saw me almost immediately.

“Elara,” she said, and the room cooled.

Not loudly. Eleanor never needed volume. She could slice a person open with the same voice she used to order tea.

“Mother,” I said. “The room looks beautiful.”

Her eyes traveled over me with clinical disappointment. My blouse. My shoes. My hair.continue reading …