I looked at the kitchen, where I had once stood waiting for Sarah to accept me calling her “Mom,” and at the stairs leading up to the room where she had acknowledged the hurt she caused me, too late to save anything except the truth.
“No,” I said softly. “I think it proves I was never the one confused about it.”
He looked like he wanted to keep fighting, but I didn’t give him a chance.
I did something I’d never done to Daniel before: I turned my back on him.
“You think one letter changes who this family is?”
I picked up my coat. “I’ll give you all time to discuss it. Please let me know what you decide by noon tomorrow.”
Then I left.
Outside, the evening air was cold and damp. I stood on the front step for a moment, trying to steady myself.
My chest ached. It felt like the uncomfortable mix of grief, anger, and relief I felt was about to explode inside me.
I took a breath, and then I started walking to my car.
