you were never a bank.”
He looked down.
“You were my mother.”
I nodded.
“And I forgot that.”
I reached across the table.
Not to give him money.
Just to touch his hand.
“I still love you.”
He looked at me.
“But love is changing.”
He nodded.
“I understand.”
“You have to learn how to stand without me holding you up.”
He wiped his eyes.
“I will.”
“And Benjamin?”
“Yes?”
“If you ever need help, ask.”
He looked confused.
“Really?”
“Yes.”
I smiled.
“But asking is different from taking.”
He nodded.
“I know.”
Months passed.
Benjamin sold the second car.
Canceled the country club.
Closed the unnecessary subscriptions.
Sold the vacation property he had been pretending he could afford.
He started paying his own mortgage.
His business survived.
Not because I financed it.
Because he finally learned how to run it.
Genevieve and I never became close.
Perhaps we never
