At My Purple Heart Ceremony, My Stepmother Swung a Folding Chair Into My Arm—Then My Father Looked Down Instead of Protecting Me
He texts on birthdays.
I call when I genuinely want to talk.
Not every Sunday because some invisible daughter contract demands it.
Sometimes we go weeks without speaking.
Nothing explodes.
He remarried several years later.
Not quickly.
A woman named Diane.
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