Right now, she wants to punish me for daring to turn the finger back on her about my childhood. My mother is narcissistic, clear to me like a flash of light as I take in her familiar pose and expression, deadpan blankness.

“Actually, I’m here to tell you my news.” I push down the chaotic feelings threatening to override my courage. A wave of nausea washes over me, tadpole’s instincts at knowing something is wrong with me. I nod toward the chair in front of her desk, looking for ...