She simply opened it wider when she saw my red eyes.
“Tea?” she asked.
I nodded.
Five minutes later, I sat at her kitchen table with both hands around a mug.
“Tea?”
“Do you want me to tell you what to do?” Mom asked.
“No.”
“Good. Because I have no idea.”
I almost smiled.
Then I told her everything.
When I finished, she touched my wrist.
“Because I have no idea.”
“You can love someone and still be unhappy with the life you’re building together.”
“What if he was right?”
“About what?”
“What if I stayed because he needed me?”
Mom leaned back.
“What if he was right?”
“I can’t answer that for you.”
I hated the answer because it was honest.
Then she said, “You’ve been saying ‘I’ve got it’ since you were 12.”
“I don’t say it that much.”
She raised an eyebrow.
“Okay. Maybe I do.”
“I can’t answer that for you.”