He was right about that.
Thalia looked between us.
“You both let me believe things that weren’t true.”
Her words landed harder than I expected.
Because although I hadn’t lied about my finances directly, I’d deliberately encouraged people to draw the wrong conclusion.
I had my reasons.
But I couldn’t pretend the decision had been entirely harmless.
Still, there was a distinction I wasn’t willing to let disappear.
“Thalia,” I said, “I didn’t tell you I was poor. I didn’t ask you to support me. And I didn’t tell you to insult someone you believed was struggling.”
Her eyes lowered.
“I know.”
“You could have asked whether I needed help.”
She stared at the table.
“Instead, you told me to get a job.”
Nobody spoke.
I looked toward the clock above the kitchen doorway.
It was nearly nine.
I’d spent almost three hours at that table.
Long enough to learn that my son had been dishonest with his wife, that my daughter-in-law had been building plans on assumptions she hadn’t checked, and that my own secrecy had helped turn family relationships into a contest nobody could win.
I gathered the documents.
Darren leaned forward.
“Mom, are you going to make us leave?”
I stopped.
Thalia’s head lifted.
There was the question she’d been afraid to ask.
I looked around the room.
“I’m not going to decide where you live tonight. You have an established home here, and any changes need to be handled properly.”
Darren exhaled.
“But,” I continued, “we are going to review this arrangement. I won’t continue allowing you to treat a privilege as though it has no conditions.”
Thalia folded her hands.
