My sister had barely gotten divorced when she dragged her suitcase in to take over my house in Louisville; Dad slammed the table and ordered: “If you don’t take care of her, don’t bother coming to the company tomorrow!” The whole dinner was suffocating—she sipped expensive wine and smirked like always. I didn’t argue; I just raised my glass, said one sentence about “tomorrow”… and their smiles were snuffed out.
The cicadas outside my Louisville bungalow were screaming like the whole neighborhood was holding its breath, and somehow my father…