The vacations.
The photographs.
She had built a life that looked effortless and resented every person who knew the effort was partly financed by someone else.
“I’m sorry,” she said.
I believed she was.
That did not make the memory disappear.
“Thank you.”
She looked at me.
“That’s it?”
“What would you like?”
“I don’t know.”
“Forgiveness?”
She hesitated.
“Yes.”
I considered it.
“I forgive you.”
Relief moved across her face too quickly.
I held up a hand.
“That does not mean we are back where we were.”
The relief paused.
“I don’t understand.”
“I forgive you. I am not volunteering for the old arrangement.”
Her face tightened.
“No one asked you to.”
“I know.”
I kept my voice gentle.
“But I need to say it because I have a habit of offering before anyone asks.”
Jennifer looked down.
“That’s fair.”
“I won’t pay your bills.”
She nodded.
“I won’t be your regular unpaid childcare.”
Another nod.
“I will babysit sometimes because I love the children.”
“I understand.”
“And if you do not want me somewhere, tell me honestly.”
Jennifer looked up.
“I don’t want you everywhere.”
I laughed.
“Good.”
