You did it slowly, over thirty-two years, every time you decided the safest thing in the room to laugh at was your own daughter.

And you did it completely, tonight, at that fountain.

I told you to remember that moment.

Do you remember what I said?

I said I would.

You thought I was nobody, Dad.

You thought I was furniture — a thing you kept around to make Chloe look better and to have something to push into a fountain when you needed a laugh.

And that was the mistake.