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

As though doing it to a grocery clerk would have been less serious.

As though Gertrude’s mistake was failing to research my résumé before deciding whether I deserved abuse.

Samuel understood immediately when I said that.

He came by during my first week home.

I had been discharged to my apartment, where opening jars became a tactical operation.

He brought groceries.

Mostly terrible ones.

“You bought three frozen pizzas.”