Not because I had found some clever trick.
Not because I had taken the Mercedes.
Not because I had destroyed my ex-wife’s new marriage.
I received it because I had done the work, documented the work, and protected myself with proper paperwork.
One Friday afternoon, Laura came to my shop.
She stood near the office door.
“Can I say something?”
I put down my tools.
“Sure.”
She looked around.
There were three customers waiting.
Two employees were working in the service area.
The shop was busy.
Much busier than it had been when she left me.
“You did it,” she said.
I didn’t understand.
“What?”
“You actually built something.”
I smiled slightly.
“I’ve been building it for years.”
She looked down.
“I was wrong.”
I didn’t answer.
She continued.
“When I told you that you would never make real money, I wanted you to feel small.”
I looked at her.
“Why?”
“Because I was leaving, and I wanted to believe I was making the right decision.”
Her voice cracked.
“I convinced myself that Brent was the successful one and you were the man who couldn’t keep up.”
I said nothing.
She wiped her eyes.
“But now I understand something.”
“What?”
