“I sent dozens.”
Maybe hundreds.
Birthday cards.
Drawings.
School congratulations based on guesses.
Letters about books.
Letters about the weather.
Letters apologizing.
Letters saying I loved her.
My mother had intercepted most.
Lily cried.
Then she asked.
“Did you really choose Cole over me?”
“No.”
The answer came immediately.
“No.”
“You drove the car.”
“Yes.”
“You knew he was robbing the pharmacy.”
“I knew he planned to steal pills.”
“That’s still terrible.”
“Yes.”
I did not defend myself.
“I made a terrible decision.”
“I thought I could stay outside the worst part of it.”
“I was wrong.”
“I paid for that.”
“You paid too.”
Lily became quiet.
Then said.
“Grandma said you never took responsibility.”
“I just did.”
That changed something.
Not everything.
But something.
We talked for forty minutes.
She did not say she loved me.
I did not ask.
She did not call me Mom.
I did not correct her.
