But this was just how we talked. My whole family was loud and bossy and shrill. We got our messages across clearly, maybe brutally, but no one ever missed the point. Every year on my birthday, I would cry over some minor misfortune, and my father would laugh and sing to me: “It’s my paaaarty, and I’ll cry if I waaaaant to, cry if I waaaaant to.” He was mocking me, but he was also giving me permission: You can always find something to cry about, even today. You’re not ruining anyone’s time other than your own. The Kouls are always happy to give someone room to be a bitch.
