I walked into my sister’s black-tie celebration after thirty-six straight hours inside a locked military bunker, and before I could even reach my father she grabbed my arm, looked at the oil on my sleeve like it was something contagious, and whispered, “Leave that trashy uniform outside,” not knowing the very people she was trying to impress were about to stop the whole room for me.
I showed up after thirty-six hours in a secure bunker. As soon as I walked in, my sister said, “Leave…