.
“Your mother.”
“For what?”
“Claire’s first car. Some home renovations. A vacation. I don’t know all of it.”
I stared at the paper.
It should have shocked me more.
But betrayal has a saturation point.
Eventually, new wounds simply confirm the shape of the old ones.
“Did you know?”
“Not then.”
“Do you expect me to believe that?”
He swallowed.
“No. I expect you to doubt everything I say. I earned that.”
That answer disarmed me.
He continued.
“I’ve spoken to an attorney. I’m replacing the money. With interest. It should have been yours.”
I closed the folder and pushed it back toward him.
“I don’t want money from guilt.”
“It isn’t guilt. It’s restitution.”
“Same neighborhood.”
“Maybe.” His voice trembled. “But take it anyway. Use it for therapy, school, a house, travel. Throw it in the lake if you want. Just don’t let my failure cost you more than it already has.”
I looked at him for a long time.
Then I took the folder.
Not because it fixed anything.
Because he was right.
I had paid enough.
Richard wiped his eyes.
“I loved you badly,” he said.
I felt my throat tighten.
“Yes.”
“I don’t know if that counts as love.”
“I don’t either.”
He nodded.
