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I was so deep inside how bad I felt that I wasn’t able to articulate what the problem was to anyone, not even to myself.
When we were together, I always felt like he was trying to teach me a lesson, when all I wanted in my life was for someone to listen to my complaints and say, Wow, that’s terrible!
Did your parents ever work at DEKA, Elliot?” He rolls his eyes. “No, they didn’t. They met working at KPMG, because their accounting degrees were recognised by the white privilege state. As you know.” “Yeah,” Rashmika says. “I just wanted to make you say it.”
“I’m sorry about all this, Ell,” the other Greta says, hugging Freya on her lap. “You must think that every day with Greta’s family is some kind of dinner theatre performance. Really, we are quite normal, and our children aren’t usually so miserable.”
“I don’t really feel like anything these days, just a beautiful husk filled with opinions about globalism and a strong desire to go out for dinner.”
I wonder how many other things we’ve both failed at trying to hide from our mother in our lives.
“I don’t feel like that. I think sometimes there are things you don’t know about where you came from and that’s just the way it is.
“Not really. Sometimes people give me too much leeway because they’re just glad I’m not dead.”
I look through all the photos and they’re all really bad—poorly framed, bad lighting, someone about to fall over—like all of our family photos are.

