For the first time, the threat did not concern money. It concerned consequences she could not transfer to anyone else.
Martin closed his eyes.
Lenora reached for his hand.
Petra looked at me.
“I am sorry,” she said.
The words were quiet, but they were not yet enough.
I studied her face.
“What are you sorry for?”
She swallowed.
“For making you afraid in your own home. For lying to Dex. For making my parents sit through that dinner. For involving the children. For treating the house like something I could earn by outlasting you.”
A tear slid down her cheek.
“I was afraid of being poor again.”
I believed her.
That did not excuse her.
“Fear explains you,” I said. “It does not absolve you.”
She nodded.
“I know.”
The meeting ended without forgiveness. Forgiveness was not a paper to sign or a door to unlock. It would require time, and Petra had finally run out of ways to hurry it.
Outside, Dex walked me to my car.
“Do you want me to move out?” he asked.
“No.”
“Do you want me to stay away?”
“No.”
“What do you want?”
I looked through the window of the office. Petra sat between her parents, her hands folded, no longer directing anyone.
“I want you to be my son without needing to rescue me,” I said. “And I want you to be a father without teaching your children that love requires silence.”
He nodded.
“I can do that.”
“Not today.”
“No,” he said. “Not today.”
