They both sit and begin to eat; the silence is awkward and tense, but no one attempts to initiate conversation. The nurse looks around timidly before deciding that staring at her plate is the best option and lowers her head. Finally, feeling my irritation rise beyond control, I break the glass-like atmosphere with a sledgehammer.  

“Why are you here?” I blurt out with not-so-subtle venom.  

“I … We need to talk about things, Emma,” my mother says, lowering her ...