There was no screaming scene at the door.
There was no dramatic speech.
Before she left, she went into the living room and asked Tessa if she could talk to her.
Tessa looked at me first.
I said, “Only if you want to.”
That mattered.
For the first time all afternoon, an adult was giving her a choice instead of an instruction.
Tessa nodded.
Their mother sat on the edge of the other chair, leaving space between them.
“I should not have left you responsible for Miles,” she said.
Tessa said nothing.
“I should not have told you not to call Dad.”
Still nothing.
“And I should never have told you what to say if he came home.”
Tessa finally looked at her.
“Were you really going to get groceries?”
Their mother swallowed.
“No.”
The answer hurt her.
I could see that.
But it was clean.
