During a family barbecue, my sister’s new boyfriend would not stop staring at my 6-year-old daughter.
The heat that afternoon felt like it had weight. It pressed down on my shoulders, clung to my skin, settled into the back of my throat like something I couldn’t swallow. My parents’ backyard smelled like charcoal and sweet barbecue sauce, the kind Mom always brushed onto ribs like it was a secret recipe passed…
