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

He looked at my arm.

At Gertrude.

At the MPs.

Then he stood.

“Can I go with her?”

The question was directed toward no one in particular.

For a second, I thought he meant me.

Then he looked at Gertrude.