“Emma.”
She swallowed.
“She has you.”
“Sarah’s parents.”
“Rachel.”
“The trust.”
“Pictures.”
“Stories.”
“People constantly protecting Sarah’s memory.”
Michael listened.
“Lucas has me.”
“And a father who sends birthday texts when he remembers.”
“Grant is alive and somehow that hurts Lucas more sometimes.”
Michael looked down.
Diane continued:
“I felt like Emma had this whole structure around her.”
“Like everyone was making sure she never lost anything else.”
“So when she wanted something…”
She shook her head.
“I heard entitlement.”
Michael looked toward her.
“When Lucas wanted something?”
“I heard need.”
There.
The distinction.
She began crying.
“I didn't know I was doing it at first.”
“Then?”
“Then I did.”
Michael stared.
“You knew?”
“Not like this.”
She wiped her face.
“I noticed I was stricter with her.”
“I told myself it was because you were softer.”
“Which I am.”
“Yes.”
“That still doesn't justify it.”
“No.”
Diane looked toward the blue folder.
“Did Sarah’s trust pay for Lucas's room?”
“Partly.”
She laughed through tears.
“Oh God.”
Michael looked away.
“No.”
She grabbed his hand.
He looked at her.
“Do not let me use money to make what I did worse or better.”
He stared.
“That sounds strange.”
“I mean it.”
She continued:
“If the trust hadn't paid one dollar toward this house, making Emma stand beside dinner would still be wrong.”
Michael nodded slowly.
“Yes.”
“And if it paid for the whole house, that does not make her morally more entitled to kindness.”
“Yes.”
“Children shouldn't have to finance dignity.”
Michael sat.
That sentence stayed.
Diane released his hand.
“What do we do?”
He thought.
“Tonight?”
“Yes.”
“You sleep in the guest room.”
Her face changed.
“Michael.”
“Not punishment.”
“Then?”
“I need space.”
She nodded slowly.
“And tomorrow?”
“We talk to Rachel.”
Diane closed her eyes.
Sarah’s sister had never fully trusted her.
“This will destroy whatever relationship she and I have.”
“Maybe.”
“Michael.”
He looked at her.
“We do not manage truth based on who will be mad.”
She almost laughed.
“Look at you learning in real time.”
“Painfully.”
They sat.
Then Diane asked:
“Do you want me to leave?”
Michael stared.
“Tonight?”
“The marriage.”
He did not answer.
Because he did not know.
Upstairs, Lucas and Emma sat on Emma’s bedroom floor.
Lucas had brought two granola bars.
Emma was eating one.
“You already ate.”
she said.
“I know.”
“Mom will be mad.”
Lucas looked toward the door.