ENZO: It’s really easy for you to shit on our childhood and talk about carrying it on your back. Really? Where? I don’t see it. You were able to throw on a suit and leave us all behind.

CRISTINA: Anthony has problems too.

ANTHONY: Cristina—

CRISTINA: No. I’m tired of them always acting like you won the lottery. I don’t know everything that went down here—but Anthony clearly has some post-traumatic stress. He has nightmares and panic attacks.

ENZO: Aw poor you, Ant. That must be tough. You have bad dreams and panic attacks like a pussy.

CRISTINA: I don’t agree with trivializing panic attacks and using a pejorative word for the female anatomy to further stigmatize and gender mental illness—

ENZO: What the fuck is she even talking about? Jesus, Ant. You make your wife believe we’re such dirt. Mommy and Daddy were not the worst parents in the world. They didn’t gamble away our house or get divorced.

ANTHONY: Look around you! This was their addiction. And they should have divorced. That’s what I wanted.

CRISTINA: It wasn’t your decision to make.

ENZO: Stepparents suck, Ant. We would have been molested. Locked in closets and shit.

ANTHONY: Or maybe we’d still have all the money Dad spent as penance for his sins.

ENZO: We were poor. You don’t get to be angry just because we were poor.

ANTHONY: We shouldn’t have been. That’s the point!

ENZO: Nonno got sick. Daddy had to close the business and start working for other companies. They had bad luck.

ANTHONY: There is no such thing as bad luck! Not here. Not in Canada. You make your own luck.