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After I carried Meadow out, I drove straight home with one hand gripping the steering wheel while the other stretched backward so she could hold my fingers. She sat curled beneath the hood of my raincoat in her booster seat, folded into herself like she wanted to disappear.
His first words were not, “Is she okay?”
They were, “Mom called. You screamed at her.”
“Did you tell your mother she could shave our daughter’s head?”
Dustin rubbed a hand across his face. “I told her to handle the situation.”
“Meadow’s attitude.”
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