Thanksgiving, 2013 The first crisis: the VCR won’t record the Macy’s Day Parade. All repair attempts fail. Mom and I brace for Robert’s outburst of anger and disappointment. It never comes. a sunlit lawn parade balloons overshadow Sixth Avenue Robert helps me bring up tables during commercials. Frankie is supposed to act as a “scout”…

Thanksgiving Day, November 22nd Another wave of sickness strikes. I’m on my knees over the master bath toilet. Orange-and-brown bile fills water and stains the porcelain rim, along with the painted walls and freshly-washed tile. Blackness. A slow awakening, questions. How did I get here? Why did I wake up in Dad’s bed? All I…

Am I dreaming, or somehow awake? I can almost hear Dad: his absolute, direct, self-confident tone filled. I feel a burst of his frenetic energy. Someone calls out, “Dad!” It’s me. Someone cries, “Help!” Also, me. Corridors shrouded in gray appear. Is he here? Is this purgatory? Or hell? breaking dawn – fresh blood flowing…