I gave you a good life, Nadine.” I stood up, because I found that I wanted to be standing for this, and behind me my father sat in his wheelchair with one thin trembling hand resting on my arm.

“No,” I said.

My voice did not shake.

“You gave me a beautiful lie, and you called it love.

You let me lay flowers on an empty grave.

You let me grieve a living man so you could keep the one you buried him for.