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The first thing my mother carried into my house was a lamp from her old bedroom. My father came behind her with two suitcases, while my brother stood in the hallway holding a drill and said, “You’ve had five years to play independent. This house belongs with the family now.” They had changed my locks while I was out of town. I looked at the broken frame, the boxes stacked beside my grandmother’s piano, and instead of arguing, I stepped onto the porch and made one phone call.
Part 1 My father followed me outside. “Claire.” I kept walking until I reached the edge of the porch. “Claire, don’t make this ridiculous.”...
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