succinctly and clearly. I did not treat her like a child. I spoke to her as an adult. I finally gave her the truth. My truth. I did not tell her about Harry, about how long I had been with Celia or anything that she didn’t need to know. Those things would come in time. But I told her what she deserved to understand. And when I was done, I said, “I’m ready to hear everything you have to say. I’m ready to answer any questions at all. Let’s have a discussion about this.” But all she did was shrug her shoulders. “I don’t care, Mom,” she said, sitting on her bed with her back against the wall. “I really don’t. You can love whoever. Marry anybody. You can make me live wherever. Go to whatever school you decide. I don’t care, OK? I just don’t care. All I want is to be left alone. So just... leave my room. Please. If you can do that, then the rest of it, I don’t care.” I looked at her, stared right into her eyes and ached for her aching. With her blond hair and her face thinning out, I was starting to fear that she looked more like me than Harry. Sure, conventionally speaking, she would be more attractive if she looked like me. But she should look like Harry. The world should give us that. “All right,” I said. “I will leave you alone for now.” I got up. I gave her some space. I packed up our things. I hired movers. I made plans with Celia and Robert. Two days before we left New York, I walked into her bedroom and said, “I'll give you your freedom in Aldiz. You can choose your own room. I'll make sure you can come back here to visit some of your friends. I’ll do whatever I can to make life easier for you. But I need two things.” “What?” she said. Her voice sounded disinterested, but she was looking at me. She was talking to me. “Dinner together, every night.” “Mom—” “I’m giving you a lot of leeway here. A lot of trust. All I’m asking for is two things. One is dinner every night.”