For months, my mind had been tortured by wild imaginations of hidden betrayals, secret affairs, and double lives.

Instead, Gavin had been hiding something far more mundane and somehow significantly sadder.

He simply did not know how to exist inside emotional discomfort or conflict.

When things got difficult, he fled the room, booked hotel stays, paid off other people’s bills, made empty promises, and bought flowers.

He did anything and everything except stay still long enough to take responsibility for his life.

“Why is your mother living at our house right now?” I asked, moving to the next issue.