My marriage remained unresolved, and the temporary arrangements were not a permanent custody decision.

Those facts were all real.

So was the child in front of me asking about breakfast.

I could no longer make family togetherness the measure of whether he was safe.

I could not promise that every adult would react kindly to what he remembered.

I could promise to listen, tell the truth about what I knew, and let the proper people check the rest.

When dinner was finished, he took his plate to the sink.