“To an outsider, it would probably look like your mother just up and left her caring husband who did everything for her. Changed her oil, did the grocery shopping. Brought home presents. But the truth is, your mom didn’t want any of that. She wouldn’t have cared if her car broke down. Or if we didn’t have all the right ingredients in the fridge. She wanted me to know her. To sit and listen to her. To talk. She wanted me to recognize that she was unhappy. That she needed help, probably from a shrink or a doctor or something. But I didn’t pay attention to any of that. If she wasn’t doing well, I took it to mean that I wasn’t doing enough for her as her husband. I pushed and pushed and called it giving. But . . . that kind of giving, it’s the same as taking. There was no space for her in our relationship. In our home. And to top it all off, she always came off as the bad guy to you kids. I was the good dad who showed up with presents and tucked you in at night, and she was the bad mom who cried in the bedroom and disappeared at all hours to God knows where.”

“Pops, you’re making it too black-and-white. It wasn’t like that.”

“I’m making it black-and-white because I need you to see this side of the story, kid. You’ve only seen one side for so long, and I need to make sure that you see parts of your mom’s side, because I think you could really benefit from it right now.”

“You think I’m doing the same thing you were doing?”

“Yes. I do. To Jack. You’re giving him too much leeway in the name of loyalty.”

“No, you don’t understand. I’m just trying to make sure he doesn’t wind up—”

“Taking responsibility for his own actions? Jess. If he deserves to wind up somewhere, then maybe you should let him wind up there.”

“Pops.”

“Loyalty doesn’t mean making it so nothing bad ever happens to the person you love. And it definitely doesn’t mean sacrificing yourself in the process. Because trust me, kid. If that’s the way you show your loyalty to Jack, you’re going to end up losing him anyhow. Just like we lost your mom.”

“I . . . ugh.” I collapse back on the bed in a heap. My eyes are scratchy from sleep and crying. I pull the blankets over my head. The weight of my forthcoming life lies down on top of me. “I don’t know if that’s what I’m doing or not.”