Because I finally understood that money had solved one problem while distance had hidden another.
I had faithfully paid the bills. I called every Sunday. I believed the cropped video frames, the excuses, and Mom repeatedly telling me everything was fine.
Mom had lied to protect me.
I had accepted that lie because it was easier to believe.
We talked about it one evening on the porch.
“I should have told you,” she said.
“Yes.”
She looked surprised by my answer.
I took her hand.
“And I should have asked better questions.”
For a while, we watched cars pass through the neighborhood.
Then Mom said, “Your sister will say you destroyed her life.”
“I know.”
“Do you think you did?”
I thought about the forged signature.
The basement cot.
The hidden envelopes.
The message warning renters not to speak with her.
“No,” I said. “I think I stopped letting her use ours.”
