Thaddius stood in the entryway.

He was still in his fatigues, the digital camouflage dusty with the soil of foreign lands. A duffel bag hung off one shoulder. He looked older, harder, the boyish softness carved away by duty and survival. But as his eyes locked onto me, the soldier vanished. His face crumpled. The smile he had prepared—the homecoming surprise—died a brutal death on his lips.

“Mom,” he whispered, the word sounding like a wound. “Is this… is this you?”

Behind me, the tableau of my humiliation was frozen. Vanessa stood in the doorway of the kitchen, a glass of sweet tea halfway to her mouth. Her mother was sprawled on my recliner. Her brother had his feet up on the coffee table. They looked like royalty caught by the peasantry.