“That sounds right.”
Then he said quietly, “You became support structure for my life.”
I felt my chest tighten.
“And you’re not support structure.”
“I know.”
He looked toward me again.
“But do you believe that I know?”
I answered truthfully.
“Not anymore.”
He nodded.
“That’s fair.”
Then he said, “I’ll have to earn that back.”
“Yes.”
“I don’t know how long that takes.”
“Neither do I.”
In the back seat, Mason slept peacefully.
He had done what he believed needed to be done.
Then he had let it go.
That was the part that stayed with me.
Mason hadn’t poured water on his father because he wanted revenge.
He hadn’t wanted attention.
He didn’t need everyone to praise him afterward.
He saw something wrong.
He addressed it.
Then he went back to being ten.
Back to sandwiches.
Back to football.
Back to the water.
