I Blame My Mom for Everything

Does the mother wound trump daddy issues?

The thud startles me out of a deep sleep. Rob stirs awake next to me, “what was that?” I whisper, my eyes wide open in the dark. My brain runs through the catalog of harmless middle-of-the-night noises. The ice maker refilling. The heater kicking on. The bathroom pipe clanging. It’s none of those. The thud again. Rob jumps out of bed in one…