On thanksgiving, my uncle blocked the door and said, “you’re not family anymore — leave,” i saw my mom laughing behind him, handing my seat to my sister’s boyfriend; i just nodded, got back in my car… and sent the message i’d been saving for months; five minutes later, half the table stood up — and walked out.

On December 10th, I repossessed it.

The phone calls came in like fireworks.

First, Ava, shrill and furious.

Then Uncle Ron, trying to reason with me like I was some angry child.

And finally, my mother.

She didn’t yell. She didn’t cry.

She just called and said, “So, this is who you really are?”

And I replied, “No. This is who you made me become.”

Click.

Christmas Eve came.

I didn’t sit alone.

I spent it with Maya and a few of our mutual friends. We made dinner together in her apartment, lit candles, played board games, and exchanged gifts that didn’t need to impress anyone.

It was the warmest holiday I’d had in years.

Around midnight, Maya poured us each a glass of wine and sat beside me on the floor, pulling a blanket over our legs.

“They called me,” she said softly.

“Let me guess,” I said. “Damage control.”