“Have you had fun today, sweetheart?” she asks. “It’s been the best day, ever.” Her face is luminous. She switches off my lamp and softly closes my bedroom door, and I realize I’ve felt no anxiety, no humiliation, no helplessness all day. As the light through the curtains fades, there’s no shouting or screaming from downstairs. No doors are slammed. I don’t need to hide in the shadows at the top of the stairs in case I have to intervene between my parents. There’s no reason why I shouldn’t fall asleep, and I do. That’s my perfect day. I may have embellished the truth a little.
