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

Lift nearly nothing.

I had carried grown men in combat.

Now a therapist praised me for moving my wrist fifteen degrees farther than the previous week.

“Don’t patronize me.”

I told him.

“Twenty degrees and I’ll become insufferable.”

Fair.

Charles texted once every Sunday.