"Takes two shots in the toaster but comes out fine. Sit down, I'll play waiter. Butter or cream cheese?" Butter, and a little jam if you have it." I f...tched both and set them out. Meantime she'd poked around my cabinets enough to find a small glass. "Orange juice?" she asked."Top shelf of the icebox," I said, poking the toaster back down for the bagels' second go-round."The what?" she asked."Icebox. Refrigerator." Oh."Apparently she'd held the thought until we were both sitting at the table, me. Her eyes were so wide. She trembled, and I half-expected her to make whimpering sounds.But I told her to be quiet.Dad made muffled grunts. His jaw worked like he was trying to speak. He shook his head, his eyes wild with panic. His entire body swayed. He wanted to move, but couldn’t. I grinned at him, savoring his powerlessness. He’d never make me feel helpless again.“You can talk, Dad.”“What the fuck is going on?” he bellowed. “What are you doing to me?”“Taking charge of this house!” My anger. More

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