My son had been keeping a record.

“How long have you been tracking this?” I asked him, and I could hear the horror in my own voice, though the horror was not really at him.

“Months,” he said quietly.

“Leo,” I said, “you shouldn’t be spying on your father.” His voice cracked, just slightly, on the answer.

“I don’t spy on him,” he said.

“I started writing things down when I realized he was lying to us.

I didn’t want to.