She looked at my son, before he was even born, and saw a liability on a balance sheet.

And she reached into my telephone and quietly deleted my whole other life, and told herself she was being a good mother.

I have had to make room in myself for the fact that both things are true: that she did it out of a kind of love, and that it does not matter even slightly, because love that erases your child from your life is not a thing you are allowed to keep doing to a person.

“Devlin,” I said, and my voice had gone somewhere very quiet and very cold.