“But the thing is,” she continued, breath hitching, “it had nothing to do with me. It never did. It didn’t matter if I was the perfect daughter or not, because nothing was ever going to be enough for him.”

“Oh God, Elise,” I whispered, the panic rising, threatening to pull me under. The room felt too small all of a sudden. I wanted to get out. I just wanted to escape this entire conversation. I didn’t know how to comfort her. I didn’t know what to do.

“When I got older, I saw the pattern,” she said. “If he was having a bad day, he’d make sure I’d have one too.”

Elise needed me. I had to snap out of it, be strong like she was, do what she would’ve done for me. Instead I was paralyzed.

She cried harder. “Sometimes I think he’s right.”

That jolted me out of it. “What? No!”

“You know how in movies you just know things will be okay? That the good guy will win the day, that the setbacks, as awful and insurmountable as they seem, are just that: setbacks.”

She looked at me expectantly and I nodded slowly.

“I wish I had that certainty,” she said, turning away from me, shoulders shaking. “I wish I knew I was going to be okay.” She looked up at me like I had the answer to her question, like I could tell her definitively that she was going to be all right, that she’d triumph over any and all obstacles, that she was unstoppable. No one had ever looked at me like that before. Had ever needed me like that.

She trusted me, I realized, and I wanted to be worthy of it.

“I think you do know,” I said quietly.

“I do?”

“Yeah,” I said with more confidence than I felt. Fake it till you make it, that was what Elise had said. “And maybe we know that the hero will win the day, but they don’t. You don’t know how things will turn out now, but I do.” I scooted closer and laid a gentle hand on hers. “I’m watching the movie of your life right now and I’m telling you that these are just setbacks. I know nothing can stand in your way.” It’s what she would’ve told me, but more than that, it’s what she needed to hear.

She stared at me for a moment before nodding slightly. “You’re right. We’re the heroes in this story, born of tragic circumstances, yes, but also strong enough to overcome them. We’ll win the day,” she said, like ultimate triumph was in the stars for us. She dried her eyes and managed a watery smile, laughing a little at herself.

“Feel better?” I asked, taking both of her hands in mine and giving them a small squeeze.

She nodded. “They’ll be shouting our names one day,” she promised, like we’d be conquerors marching through the streets. “You and me.”

I laughed too, relieved she seemed to be feeling better. “Okay.”