He looked away.
“That isn’t an excuse.”
“No.”
“I should have stopped her.”
“Yes.”
“I should have defended you.”
“Yes.”
“I failed you.”
I reached across the table.
“You hurt me.”
He nodded.
“But you can choose what happens next.”
He looked at my hand.
“I don’t want to lose you.”
“You won’t.”
His face softened.
“But things will be different.”
“How?”
“You don’t get to treat me badly and then expect everything to return to normal because you apologized.”
He nodded.
“What do I do?”
“Stand beside me when it’s uncomfortable.”
He swallowed.
“Okay.”
“And don’t let anyone convince you that loving your mother makes you less successful.”
“I won’t.”
“Good.”
He reached for my hand.
“I love you, Mom.”
“I love you too.”
A week later, Ethan called me.
“Mom?”
“Yes?”
“Can you come to the restaurant?”
“Why?”
“Please.”
I almost refused.
Then I agreed.
When I arrived, Daniel was waiting.
But he wasn’t alone.
The restaurant staff stood in the dining room.
Ethan was there.
Claire was there too.
She looked uncomfortable.
