a medical journal. He had that familiar, earnest look on his face, the one he always wore when he

ice low and conspiratorial.

asked, not looking

whatever he wants. Mom just lets him. You're a dietitian

oomed, "I can hear you whispering! Stop

ched. I tu

as in the room with the doctor. He heard the sa

He expected me to jump into action, to produce color-coded meal

his health! H

could,"

red at me, a confused frown creasing his handsome f

the diagnosis. I had spent an entire day creating a beautiful, low-glycemic birthday cake for him,

his face contorting in a sn

plate and hurled it against the dining

osting! Are you trying to poison me on

oked at David, pleading with my eyes for him to say something, to defend me. He just stood there, his

hield against David

hadn't hit me, but it shattered on the wall right next to my head, sending splinters of glass into my hair. I could sti

e asked if I

that I had been too desperate for their approval to see. His passivity, Eleanor's enabling, Richa

devoid of emotion. "I cared for years

idn't understand. To him, my death was still a dista

talking about?

tles that aren't mine. Your father has made his choice. You and your mother

d the living room, I saw Richard on the sofa. Eleanor was spoon-feeding him a bowl of

sadness. Just the cold, clear