I have a vivid memory:

We’re sitting outside eating dinner in that golden hour when the sun makes the world look like it’s been splashed with honey. My father gives me a compliment. I don’t even recall what it was. I just know that I batted it away, as I’d been taught somehow, somewhere, maybe TV? How did Mrs. Brady take a compliment? Mary Tyler Moore?

I already knew the script:

THEM:“Katie, you look so/sound so/are so_______. Your ______ is so _________.”

ME:“No, I’m not. It isn’t. It was just lucky. Did you notice that crack/mistake/mess?”

That night, my father gave me a different script:

Read on…