“Then why are we discussing it?”
She looked toward my old Buick parked outside.
“I’ve worked very hard to build a different kind of life.”
I nodded slowly.
“I know.”
“And I don’t want everything I’ve done reduced to where I started.”
For a moment, I couldn’t speak.
The kettle clicked as it cooled.
A car passed outside.
I thought of all the evenings Lauren had sat in this kitchen doing homework while I calculated whether groceries and electricity could both be covered that week.
I’d worked hard so she wouldn’t have to spend adulthood making those calculations.
Now she was asking me not to talk about it.
“I only mean that I want to understand what you need from me,” I said.
Lauren’s eyes filled.