Wilhelmina watched with fury.

Sorrel watched with something closer to envy.

Ansel looked at the floor.

Her parents ate slowly, quietly, and with dignity, and they understood — she could see that they understood — that their daughter was not defending a meal.

She was defending them, and herself, and a line that should have been drawn years ago.

I watched my parents eat, and it undid something in me, in a good way, to see it.