PART 3   I stared at the hospital bracelet in the lunchbox until the letters of my own name blurred.

echoed.

For the first time, the alley behind the house had no blue van.

It felt wrong.

It felt right.

“I don’t know how to be your daughter,” I said.

Walter nodded.

“I don’t know how to be your father.”

I appreciated that he did not pretend otherwise.

“But maybe,” he added, “we can start with the truth.”

I looked at him.

“All of it?”

“All I can bear. And when continue reading …