PART 3
If Dad had a problem with paperwork, I handled it. If Mom was overwhelmed, I rearranged my schedule.
If someone made a mistake, I was the person expected to clean it up. I had become the family’s emergency exit.
And somehow, everyone had forgotten that emergency exits were not supposed to be people’s permanent homes.
I made another cup of coffee. My hands had finally stopped shaking when my phone buzzed with an email.