I did not forgive them.

But in that moment I understood them, and understanding is its own kind of ending.

I picked up a pen from the gift table and held it out.

“Sign the papers, Tate.

Sign them, take your debt, and I will never look at any of you again.” He looked at the pen like it was a snake.

He looked to my father for help, but my father had turned his back to the window.