access mattered more.
She could think I was selfish.
She could tell Brenda I had become difficult.
Neither woman had a key to my house.
Neither managed my bank account.
Neither decided how I spent Sundays.
That was enough.
David changed more slowly.
Sometimes he’d begin with, “Could you possibly—” then stop himself before turning an inconvenience into my responsibility.
Other times he called just to ask how I was—a surprisingly intimate question after years of conversations centered on what someone needed.
Our relationship became smaller in some ways.
Healthier
