She told me she wasn’t there to prove anyone’s story.

Her role was to help us speak safely if I chose to stay.

“I’ll stay,” I said.

“But nobody is going to decide what I can handle.”

Lucas sat across from me.

My mother took the chair nearest the door, like someone accustomed to leaving rooms quickly.

There was an unopened packet of tissues between us.

“First,” I said, “what is your name?”