Later, Elaine and I sat outside under a string of lights, watching the boys toss a basketball in the driveway.

“I used to think you’d hate me,” she said.

“I was afraid I might,” I answered honestly.

“Not because you’d done anything wrong.

Because you had the years I lost.”

She nodded.

“I was afraid you’d want those years back from me.”

“I do want them back.