I had once thought those words were love.
Perhaps they were.
But suddenly, I also heard something else inside them.
A decision.
Taken by me.
Daniel wiped his cheek.
—I told him I was doing it again.
—Doing what?
—Deciding what you could endure without asking you.
He said Richard got angry.
—He said he was dying and didn’t have time to argue.
-And you?
—I told him that if he wanted you to have your own life so badly, he could start by letting you have your own answers.
Then Daniel looked at the pink dress.
“And why did you put it on?” I asked.
He shrugged miserably.
—After Dad died, I hardly ever came. Then I remembered what he said you were going to do today.
—Organize everything. Comfort everyone. Make sure everyone ate.
—He was right.
She clumsily tugged at the pink skirt.
—I thought there was one thing you couldn’t arrange to avoid it.
Despite myself, I laughed.
—Want to walk into your father’s funeral dressed like I was at twenty-three?
-Exactly.
My laughter turned into tears.
Daniel knelt beside me.
—I’m sorry for staying away, Mom.
—I’m angry because you did it. But I understand why.
He nodded.
Then, very slowly, he said:
—I knew all of Dad’s stories.
He lowered his gaze.
—I knew your passwords. But I didn’t know if you were still dancing, Mom.
Because I had made it easy myself.
I remembered birthdays before anyone asked. I solved problems before anyone even noticed them. I said “whatever you want” so often that, eventually, no one needed to wonder what I wanted.
—Sometimes —I whispered— it was easier to do everything myself than to find out if anyone noticed.
Daniel took my hand.
—Do you still dance?
I almost said I hadn’t had time.
Instead, I thought about it.
-Don’t know.
He did not suggest classes.
He didn’t make any plans.
He simply said:
-Alright.
That night, the dishes from the funeral covered my kitchen.
I automatically extended my hand towards them.
Then I stopped.
—Leave them alone.
Daniel looked at me.
—They’ll be disgusting tomorrow.
—Then he can complain tomorrow.
He laughed.
A little while later, he opened the food delivery app.
—What do you want for dinner?
—What you…
I stopped.
He waited.
No suggestions.
Without rescuing me.
I looked at him.
—Chinese food.
Daniel grimaced.
—I hate Chinese food.
I raised an eyebrow.
Sigh.
—Chinese food, then.
For once, the dishes stayed in the sink.
The pink dress remained where I could see it.
And Daniel complained about the spring rolls while I ate exactly what I wanted.
My voice failed me.
Daniel continued.
—I told him I didn’t know.
—He started talking about vacations. He said that all the vacations we had taken had been somewhere he wanted to go, somewhere I wanted to go, or somewhere that worked with the school schedule.
“Families make sacrifices,” I said.
-I know.
