She looked at me.
“I didn’t tell you first.”
“No. But you told us eventually.”
Her eyes became shiny.
“I thought you would be disappointed in me.”
I moved to the chair beside her.
“Emily, I’m upset that you felt you had to lie. But I’m much more upset that you were hurting so badly that you didn’t know how to ask for help.”
She leaned against my shoulder.
“I didn’t know what to do.”
“You don’t have to know everything at fourteen.”
She gave a small laugh.
“You say that, but you expect me to remember every assignment, clean my room, and plan for college.”
“Those are entirely different emergencies.”
She laughed again, and this time I joined her.
For the first time in a long while, our kitchen felt like a place where she could breathe.
The next few weeks were not easy.
