A week later, Marlee showed up at my apartment.

She was carrying a casserole dish.

I opened the door.

“Hello, Marlee.”

She looked uncomfortable.

“Can I come in?”

I stepped aside.

She placed the casserole on the kitchen counter.

“I thought you might need dinner.”

“Thank you.”

She looked around.

The apartment was small, but clean and bright.

“You seem settled.”

“I am.”

She sat down.

For a few minutes, neither of us spoke.

Then she said, “I didn’t mean for the notebook to hurt you.”

I looked at her.

“Then why did you write it?”

She swallowed.

“Hugh and I are struggling financially. The daycare costs are enormous. We thought if you moved in, it would solve everything.”

I nodded.

“That’s understandable.”

She looked surprised.

I continued.

“But needing help doesn’t give you the right to manipulate someone.”

Her eyes filled with tears.

“I know.”

I waited.

She wiped her face.

“I think I got so focused on making our lives easier that I stopped thinking about yours.”

I looked at her.

“That is the first honest thing you’ve said to me about this.”

She nodded.

“I know.”

Then she said, “I’m sorry.”

I didn’t immediately forgive her.

I didn’t tell her everything was fine.

Instead, I said, “Thank you for apologizing.”

We sat quietly for a while.

It wasn’t a perfect reconciliation.

But it was a beginning.

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