He teased me right up until the moment my careful records became the only thing standing between me and the version of events his family wanted to tell.

But that was still eight years away, on the morning the two hundred dollars arrived.

On that morning the folder was just a folder, and I was still, as far as any of them knew, the woman who always figured it out.

I should say what that phrase costs, because it is the kind of compliment that hollows a person out from the inside.

To always figure it out means that no one else ever has to.