On a school morning when I wanted to attend a meeting with Mason’s teacher, Lauren said he wasn’t comfortable yet.

I stayed away.

A month later Mason invited me himself.

That invitation felt different because nobody had arranged it on his behalf.

I started therapy because there were evenings I heard my mother’s voice coming out of my own mouth.

I would say, “I know what’s best,” or “We’re not discussing this,” and feel the old machinery of command waking up.

My therapist asked what frightened me when someone disagreed.