“I know.”
“And I can’t protect her by assuming that silence means she’s fine.”
He looked at me.
For a moment, we stood there without the usual tension that seemed to follow us whenever we discussed parenting.
We had been divorced for six years.
During those years, we had become very good at disagreeing about schedules, school expenses, forgotten appointments, and whose weekend it was.
We had not always been as good at remembering that we were still raising the same child.
Mark rubbed the back of his neck.
“I don’t want her thinking I’m the parent she can run to when she wants to avoid responsibility.”
“Then don’t be that parent.”
He gave a small, sad laugh.
“Straight to the point as always.”
“Someone has to be.”
For the first time that day, I almost smiled.
Then I continued.
“She needs to know she can come to you when she’s scared. She also needs to know you’ll help her make a real plan, even if that means having a difficult conversation with me.”
