When we got home, Dave went straight to Sam’s room.
Sam had already fallen asleep at my sister’s, and we’d moved him to bed without waking him. Dave stood there for a long time, just watching him.
Then he came back and sat on the couch.
We didn’t speak for a while.
Finally, he said, “I don’t know who I am right now.”
I took his hand. “You are Sam’s dad.”
He let out a broken laugh. “That’s the one thing I know.”
“Then hold on to that.”
He looked at me, eyes red. “I should have stopped her years ago.”
I didn’t rush to comfort him.
“Yes,” I said.
He nodded slowly. “I kept asking you to be patient because it was easier than dealing with her.”
“Yes.”
He swallowed hard. “I’m sorry.”
That one mattered.
Not the empty kind people say just to end a fight.
“I know,” I said.
