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She leaned against the kitchen counter. “Okay. I don’t know why, but the thought of seeing him makes me feel like throwing up.”

“Should I get my water bottle?”

She gasped and it broke the tension a little. Then her face went serious again. “Chris, I really don’t want to be the reason you and Mike are weird.”

“We’re weird because he made it weird,” I said. “He’s not my priority right now.”

“And what is?”

“You,” I said, without even thinking about it.

“Christopher… You don’t need to do everything you’re doing,” she said. “I appreciate it but it’s a lot.”

I set my plate on the table and turned to her. “I’ve been doing a lot of thinking. About what you told me that night we did the secret shops, that you lost your voice screaming at your dad to change.”

I paused, trying to think about how I wanted to say this.

“I felt responsible for my mom for a long time. I felt responsible for Mike—”

“And now you want to be responsible for me?”

“No. I want to help you be responsible for yourself. I want you to be so successful you don’t need me or anyone ever again.”

“You don’t want me to need you?” she asked.

“No.”

“Why?”

“Because that’s what you want,” I said simply. “That’s what makes you feel safe. And it’s what you do for people you care about. You lift them up and help them be the best version of themselves. I thought for a long time that’s what I was doing for Mike, but I wasn’t. I was just enabling him, pouring myself into a cup with a hole in the bottom and it’s just—”

“Draining?” she said.

“Yes,” I said quietly. “Draining.”

She hugged her arms around herself and we fell into silence.

“My mom’s like that,” she said, after a time. “Draining.”

I nodded slowly. Yeah, I could see that.

“I’m so scared of being my mom,” she whispered.

I shook my head. “You could never be your mom.”

“No? Because I chose the same kind of man she always does.”

“That doesn’t make you her. You get to make mistakes. You don’t choose it if you change it. And anyway, Mike lied about who he was. And I’m sorry for any part I played in that.”

She nodded and looked away from me. “I understand why you did it,” she said.

I studied her. “You do?”

“Yeah. I probably would have done the same thing. It’s a thin line between helping and hurting sometimes.” Her eyes came back to mine. “And you get to make mistakes too.”

I smiled a little. I was glad she said it, to be absolved of some of the guilt. As for Mike and Mom, I loved them, but I wasn’t willing to blame myself for their outcomes. Not anymore.

You can’t love someone more than they love themself.