To me, my mother had always been the woman who managed dinners and social invitations and reminded us how to behave.

For a moment I imagined her younger, uncertain, and able to see futures I had never been told about.

Understanding that did not excuse her choices toward me.

But it complicated the story in a way that felt more human.

I was beginning to see that a family secret did not always conceal something spectacular.

Sometimes it concealed a moment when somebody had been afraid to leave and had decided never to speak of that fear again.

PART 9