“I am not passive aggressive,” she said. “I would never be passive aggressive. That would be following in your footsteps.”
“What are you talking about?” I asked. “I’ve never been passive aggressive in my life.”
“What do you call drinking?” she asked. “What do you call having s*x with every other person you meet? Weren’t you trying to get back at Dad? Weren’t you trying to get back at us?”
“What?” I said. “Trying to get back at you? You mean you and David? No! Why would I want to get back at you? For what?”
“For surviving,” she said. “For not being Alberto.”
“Good grief,” I said. “No. I wasn’t trying to get back at your dad. Not really. I was trying to get back at myself. Trying to drown the pain. Or myself. I don’t know. Fern, addiction is so complicated.”
“And yet so simply destruct
