Frank stood near the center, younger and thinner, his guitar slung low.

Evelyn stood beside him, smiling toward whoever had taken the picture.

I had spent years believing the photograph was evidence of a life my father had chosen over me.

Now I could see that my mother had been part of that life too.

I did not suddenly think Frank had been right to charge me rent or wrong to buy the equipment.

Those questions did not fit neatly beside one another.