Now all three versions were standing in the same hallway.
There was no room for them anymore.
One evening, Barbara sat at my kitchen table while Chloe slept nearby.
She was quiet for a long time.
Then she said, “I taught him some of this.”
I looked at her.
“When Eric made a mess, I fixed it before he had to deal with it. Rent. Cars. Missed deadlines. Bills. Every time, I told myself I was helping.”
She rubbed her palms together.
“Maybe I was teaching him that somebody else would always carry the consequences.”
Her eyes moved toward Chloe’s room.
I did not tell her she was wrong.
I did not tell her she was right.
Some realizations need silence more than comfort.
Three weeks later, Eric arrived at Barbara’s house while Chloe and I were visiting.
He walked in frustrated.
“Tell Claire she’s being unreasonable.”
