“I forgot where I came from,” Richard said, staring down at his plate. “Got caught up trying to prove I belonged somewhere, and somewhere along the way I made money the measuring stick for everything. Everyone.”
“Easy trap to fall into,” I said. “I nearly fell into it myself, more than once.”
Around nine, as everyone was gathering their coats by the door, Patricia hugged me tightly, longer than I expected.
“Thank you,” she said, “for giving us another chance. And for raising such a wonderful son.”
After they left, Michael and I sat together on my small, slightly worn couch, the apartment quiet again in that particular way it gets after a room full of people finally empties out.
“Dad,” he finally said, staring at the floor. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Would it have changed who you became?”
He thought about that for a long moment, longer than I expected. “Probably. I might not have worked as hard. Might have just expected you to bail me out whenever things got tight.”
