Something felt off the moment I walked through the front door. My father, Gerald, sat in his recliner with his arms crossed, his face carved from stone. My mother, Diane, stood by the fireplace, and her expression made my stomach drop. Brenda was there with her husband, Keith, but their three kids were conspicuously absent, probably at Keith’s mother’s house. My aunt Ruth, Dad’s sister, sat on the couch, looking distinctly uncomfortable.