I looked at him in silence for a moment.

“Can you give me back,” I said, “the trust I lost the afternoon I caught you copying my card number into a notebook behind my back?

Can you take back the years your mother called me cold and controlling for the crime of making sure our bills were paid?

Can you erase the night the three of you sat at my own dinner table and laughed about sending me off to do manual labor while you spent my money on a beach?

Can you fix any of those things, Jason?

Because those are what would need fixing.”