Three separate phases, when all three of them hated me at once. June, at 13, slamming doors. Claire, at 15, refused to look at me for a month. And Ava, at 17, told me I didn’t understand anything.
I didn’t. But I stayed.
I just made grilled cheese.
***
I missed things, too.
- A cousin’s wedding in Denver because Claire had the flu.
- A fishing vacation I’d promised myself for 10 years.
- The chance to have a family of my own.
- And Diana, the woman I love.
Diana was patient for a long time. Longer than she should’ve been.
I missed things, too.
“I’m not asking you to choose,” she told me one night at the front door. “I’m asking if there’s room.”
“There isn’t,” I said. “Not the kind you deserve.”
She nodded as if she already knew. She left a sweater behind. I never returned it.
