“And?”
He swallows.
“I’m sorry I didn’t defend you.”
That one lands.
You keep your face still.
“And?”
He looks confused.
“There’s more?”
“Yes. You told me to give them to her so everyone could be calm. You taught your mother that humiliating me would cost her nothing.”
He flinches.
“I didn’t mean to.”
“You didn’t need to mean it. You did it.”
He lowers the flowers.
“My mom says you’re trying to destroy us.”
You laugh.
Not loudly.
But enough.
“Your mother woke me at four in the morning and demanded gold. I recorded it. If truth destroys her, that’s not my work.”
He runs a hand through his hair.
“What do you want me to do?”
There.
The question boys ask when they want women to build their backbone for them.
You feel tired.
“I wanted you to know before I had to tell you.”
He nods, tears in his eyes.
“I’ll talk to her.”
“No.”
He looks up.
“No?”
“You need to decide who you are before you talk to anyone.”
“I choose you.”
“You chose me on the porch because there are consequences now. That is not the same thing.”
His face crumples.
“Please don’t cancel everything.”
You look at him for a long time.
