It was not a reconciliation.

It was a practical agreement between people who had to make decisions for a child.

On the drive home I remembered the first time Brandon held Hazel.

He had cried when the nurse placed her in his arms.

The memory was real, and so was the person who denied her formula months later.

I no longer needed one memory to erase the other.

I gave Hazel dinner, read a picture book, and watched her fall asleep with one fist around the corner of her blanket.