They Tried To Throw Me Out Of My Own Restaurant Until The Chef Stepped In

a metaphor for something I didn’t want to name.

My father sat at the head of the table because of course he did.

Frank Carter, fifty-eight, retired insurance adjuster, wearing the navy blazer he wore to every restaurant and every funeral, every occasion where he wanted people to know he had made an effort. His jaw was set the way it had been set my entire continue reading …