Instead, I understood.
“What did you expect?”
“Someone like our father.”
I almost corrected her.
Our father.
The phrase remained between us.
“And?”
She looked around my office.
“I found someone trying very hard to be.”
I should have been angry.
But I wasn’t.
“What does that mean?”
“You really want to know?”
“Yes.”
“You schedule everything.”
“I’m busy.”
“You solve problems before people finish explaining them.”
“That is generally efficient.”
“You think paying for something means you’ve participated in it.”
That one landed.
“And,” she added, “you stand at doors when you don’t know what to say.”
I frowned.
“I do not.”
“You stood outside your mother’s room for eleven minutes last night.”
I stared.
Clara smiled faintly.
“I was changing the flowers.”
“Do you observe everyone this closely?”
“No.”
The answer was quiet.
“Only the people I was trying to understand.”
I looked down at the letters.
