“And you were ready.”

“Yes.”

He was quiet.

“I’ve spent three days thinking about what kind of person I am when her voice isn’t in my head.”

“And?”

“I realized I spent years with one of the most capable people I’ve ever known while allowing someone else to convince me you were useless.”

I said nothing.

“I believed it because questioning my mother was harder.”

That was the truth.

“And that’s on me,” he said. “Not her.”

I finally answered.

“Yes.”

“I allowed her story to become mine because challenging it would have cost me emotionally.”

“Yes.”

“I’m willing to pay that cost now.”

He paused.

“If you’ll let me try.”

I didn’t answer immediately.

Then I asked:

“What about the furniture?”

“I’ll replace all of it.”

“That’s not what I mean.”

“What do you mean?”

“Do you understand what taking the furniture represented?”