I’ve thought about it for three years and I actually don’t know.”

“Do you think she knows?”

“I think she might.”

And Wren said, “Then I want to ask her.”

I will not pretend that was easy.

I drove about four miles in silence and what was going on in me was a completely straightforward desire to be the one who explained her own mother to her, permanently, with my version, which she would have taken because she was twelve and I was the one who had been there for four years.

What I said was: “Okay.