“Only?” she repeated. “Did you seriously just say only?”
Daniel cut in before I could answer. “There are other chairs. This isn’t a problem unless you make it one.”
My mother ignored him completely.
She leaned toward me, and her voice took on that low public hiss she had perfected when she wanted to sound controlled while saying something vicious.
“You always do this. Always. Every family event, every holiday, every birthday. Everything has to revolve around you.”
I almost laughed at the absurdity of hearing that while she was standing over me in the middle of someone else’s wedding reception demanding my seat.
“It’s a chair,” I said. “Find another one.”
My father stepped closer.
The smell of whiskey hit me before his words did.
