LUNA
.
.
Dinner time, and the air harbored not just the aroma of food and the clattering of spoons, but a thick tension.
My father sliced through the chicken, the flesh pale and underdone. The kind of cooking my mother usually did when anger had her in a chokehold. Clearly, my father had provoked her again.
Usually, when this happens, I wouldn’t care. But tonight I did—how would my mother talk to Uncle Stephan when she was f*****g mad? She even had a scowl on her face.
Disappointment coiled in my chest. The tasteless food tasted stale on my tongue as I forced myself to swallow.
My father turned to Uncle Stephan. “How’s the divorce going?”
Uncle Stephan’s grip on the cutlery as he slowly chewed on the meat before swallowing. “What can I say?” He reached for the glass of water. “I t
