“You can control your part.”
“What is my part?”
“Stop lying.”
“Stop doing damage to prove loyalty.”
“Stop expecting someone else to erase consequences.”
“Apologize without asking people to make you feel better about apologizing.”
Tyler stared.
“That sounds hard.”
“Yes.”
Marcus smiled faintly.
“Most useful things are.”
The program director called Tyler back.
He started walking.
Then turned.
“I'm sorry.”
Marcus nodded.
“I know.”
Tyler looked uncertain.
Marcus added:
“Keep proving it.”
The teenager went back.
That afternoon, Marcus called Julian Mercer.
“I think your car may have accidentally become educational equipment.”
Julian laughed.
“As long as they don't scratch the other side.”
Winter arrived.
Brenda disappeared from neighborhood life.
Her pink outfits no longer appeared at mailboxes or board meetings.
Marcus saw her occasionally driving.
No conversation.
Then, in January, she knocked on his door.
Marcus checked the camera.
Brenda.
Pink coat.
Some things survived.
He opened.
She stood holding no binder.
Good sign.
“What can I do for you?”
She looked toward the driveway.
Marcus's ordinary black sedan sat there.
“No Lamborghini.”
“Safer.”
A tiny smile.
Then gone.
“Can we talk?”
Marcus stepped onto the porch.
Did not invite her inside.
Brenda understood.
“I owe you an apology.”
Marcus waited.
She took a breath.
“I don't know how to do this without explaining myself.”
“Try.”
Her lips tightened.
Then:
“I made you an enemy because you challenged me.”
Marcus said nothing.
“I told myself you were arrogant.”
“Uncooperative.”
“Always looking for loopholes.”
She looked toward him.
“But most of the time, you were right about the documents.”
Marcus almost smiled.
“Most?”
She gave him a look.
Fine.
Human.
She continued.
“Tyler heard me complain about you for months.”
“I never told him to damage the car.”
“I know.”
“But I taught him that hurting you would make me happy.”
Marcus's expression changed.
That was more honest than he expected.
Brenda's eyes filled.
“I didn't say those words.”
“But that's what he learned.”
She swallowed.
“And when he did it, my first reaction was not to tell him the truth mattered.”
“My first reaction was to protect him from consequences.”
Marcus waited.
Brenda continued:
“I thought that was being a mother.”
“It wasn't.”
“What was it?”
“Fear.”
“Control.”
“I don't know.”
She looked toward the street.
“Robert moved out.”
Marcus remained still.
“I'm sorry.”
“We needed it.”
“Maybe temporary.”
“Maybe not.”
She looked back.
“Tyler barely trusts me.”
Marcus chose his words carefully.
“That can change.”
“You think?”
“Yes.”
“If you stop asking him to trust the version of you that never makes mistakes.”
Brenda flinched.
Then nodded.
“That's fair.”
Silence.