I gripped the phone.
“So that makes this okay?”
“No. It doesn’t.”
“Mom, you don’t let people be scared.”
Her voice softened.
“But if you want the truth, that’s part of it too.”
For the first time that night, I didn’t have an answer ready.
“So that’s what you think of me?”
Tilly was quiet for a moment.
“I think you love us by taking care of things. Sometimes so fast that nobody gets to say what they’re feeling first.”
Her voice softened.
“But he still should’ve told you,” she added. “I told him that.”
“Did he listen?”
“Not then.”
After we hung up, I couldn’t keep believing Conor was simply wrong and I was simply right.
***
That evening, Conor’s sister, Amanda, stopped by with brownies.
“I figured neither of you needed another casserole,” she said.
“I told him that.”
Amanda was older than Conor by two years and direct enough to make him uncomfortable.
