A year after the hearing, Mark asked for ten minutes to talk during a Sunday exchange.

We sat on a bench near the courtyard while Tommy rode his bicycle in circles where we could see him.

Mark’s hands were clasped tightly between his knees.

He looked at the ground for a long moment before speaking.

“I owe you an apology,” he said.

“Not just for the divorce.”

I waited.

“For making you feel stupid when you asked about money.