Dad’s wineglass slipped from his hand and shattered against the dining-room floor just as the anchor said my full name and rank. Nobody at the table spoke. The report explained that I had volunteered for the Christmas shift before helping coordinate the rescue of nearly thirty-five passengers during the blizzard. Then the screen showed two younger soldiers hugging their children after being released from duty early because I had taken their assignments.
My phone rang again while I was still watching the broadcast from base. This time, it was Dad. I almost let it go to voicemail, but eventually answered. For several seconds, he said nothing. Then he quietly admitted that he had spent the evening trying to make Derek feel important by pretending my accomplishments were somehow a problem. Hearing strangers praise the daughter he had asked to stay away had apparently made that choice impossible to defend.
...
