«Sophia,» Mom continued, turning her attention to me with the kind of cold focus usually reserved for particularly stubborn stains. «We’ve been patient with your phase for far too long. This whole ‘independent woman’ act, the refusal to get married, the mysterious job you won’t talk about, the way you’ve isolated yourself from the family.»

«I’m sitting right here physically.»

«Yes, but emotionally, spiritually, you’ve been absent for years.»

I looked around the table at the faces I’d grown up with, searching for any sign of support or understanding. Derek was studying his dessert like it contained the secrets of the universe. Jennifer was checking her phone. Melissa was reapplying lipstick. Even Dad seemed uncomfortable, though he wasn’t intervening.