The expectation that I’d absorb the consequences afterward.
Mom wiped her eyes.
“I never wanted to hurt you.”
I looked at her.
“I believe you didn’t want a confrontation. But you were willing to hurt me if it meant giving Khloe what she wanted.”
She began crying.
I didn’t move to comfort her.
Not because I enjoyed seeing her upset.
Because I knew what would happen if I did.
The conversation would become about reassuring Mom.
And once she felt better, nothing would change.
Dad reached for her hand.
She pulled away.
Then she looked at me.
“You’ve always been so capable. Khloe needs more help.”
I considered that.
“Mom, being capable doesn’t mean I don’t need care.”
Her eyes filled again.
I continued.
“When I graduated from college, you left before the ceremony ended because Khloe was upset about her haircut.”
Mom looked startled.
“That was years ago.”
“I know.”
“I didn’t think you cared.”
I stared at her.
“Of course I cared.”
She lowered her eyes.
I continued.
“When you forgot to pick me up from school, you told me to be resourceful.”
She looked toward Dad.
