At My Purple Heart Ceremony, My Stepmother Swung a Folding Chair Into My Arm—Then My Father Looked Down Instead of Protecting Me

“Good.”

“I don’t expect you to be proud of me.”

Another improvement.

“I’m telling you because I used to make every change sound like something you should reward.”

I stared.

Therapy.

Apparently real.

“I’m glad you’re getting help.”