“Yes.”
“And I agreed.”
“Yes.”
He looked toward the street.
“I really messed up.”
“Yes.”
I said it without cruelty.
He almost smiled.
Then.
“Can I fix it?”
“Not quickly.”
He nodded.
“Fair.”
Then he asked.
“Did Mom know about the stores?”
“Of course.”
That hurt him.
“Why didn’t you tell me after she died?”
“I wanted you to build your own life.”
“I did.”
“Yes.”
“Not as successfully as you apparently.”
I looked at him.
“That is exactly what I wanted to avoid.”
He frowned.
“What?”
“Comparison.”
“Money doesn’t make my life bigger than yours.”
“You have a wife.”
“Two children.”
“A career.”
“A home.”
“What exactly did you fail at?”
He thought.
Then smiled faintly.
“Marriage judgment lately.”
I laughed.
“Maybe.”
He sighed.
“You don’t like Vanessa.”
“I don’t like how she treated me.”
“That’s not the same.”
“No.”
It wasn’t.
I needed to remember that.
