My babysitter by then was a Mexican teenager named Maria whose job was to distract me from the distress of my parents’ going out at night. Every time they left the house, I’d throw myself on the floor and pitch a fit, kicking, crying, and screaming. I was young, and I was terrified when they left at nighttime. I also knew that things had changed and I was overreacting a gargantuan amount. Sometimes, in the midst of these tantrums, I’d even ask myself, Cher, what the fuck are you doing? (I know it was early for that word, but I was only ever around grown-ups, so I’d heard it.) They’re just
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