“This happened to me too.” That was what your mother said, the one time you yelled at her for the essays, which was after the one about your suicide attempt. You hadn’t yelled at your mother in years; it wasn’t productive. Knowing every action is documented, perhaps you have tried to restrain yourself to those you could account for. Yet you were crying on the phone, your hands were shaking, you were folding up the crumpled sheets that Maura had resigned to you after giving up trying to hang yourself with them. That’s what your mother said on the phone. “This happened to me too, Maura. You
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