And you used that.”
I stood.
“No.”
My voice shook.
“I visited your father because you paid me to.”
Patrice opened her mouth.
I continued.
“But I stayed after the money stopped mattering.”
She froze.
“I stayed when he told the same story three Sundays in a row because he had forgotten he’d already told me.”
A few relatives lowered their eyes.
“I stayed when he couldn’t finish his dinner because his hands were shaking.”
My voice broke.
“I stayed because he was lonely.”
Patrice looked away.
“And because,” I whispered, “I loved him.”
Nobody spoke.
Then Mr. Abernathy cleared his throat.
“There is one final paragraph.”
I sat down.
He unfolded the last page.
And read.
“If Patrice is angry, let her be angry.
If my relatives accuse her of taking advantage of me, let them speak.
But nobody is to change what I have decided.
I have spent
