disrupting other people’s categories.
Poor single mother.
Waitress.
Accounting clerk.
Woman in an old dress.
Then suddenly she speaks, and people realize the category wasn’t enough.
By the end of dinner, Catherine’s tone had changed.
In the lobby, she hugged me.
“Elena, we’re so happy for you and James.”
This time, the warmth sounded genuine.
Then she turned to Mom.
“Patricia, it was lovely meeting you.”
Lovely.
Not comfortable.
Mom smiled.
“The gallery exhibition you described sounds wonderful. I’d love to see it.”
“Please come,” Catherine replied. “I’ll send you
