She looked at the stage, where the next name was being called, with her hands on the clasp of her bag.

And I sat eleven rows back on the vocational staff row with my hands flat on my knees and did not go to him, which was the right thing and which took everything I had.

He remembers almost none of the rest of it.

He has told me that.

Not the walk out, not the photographs on the grass, not the thing I said to him in the car park which I remember word for word and which he has no memory of whatsoever.

That is what it cost.