“You wanted me to quit.”
“What?”
“Don’t pretend.”
“Tessa, I never told you to quit ballet.”
“Yes, you did.”
“When?”
She opened her mouth, then stopped.
Finally she whispered, “Colin told me.”
Everything around me seemed to go quiet.
“What did Colin tell you?”
Her eyes filled.
“He said you and Dad talked about it with him. He said you both thought I wasn’t ready, but you were scared I’d fall apart if you told me.”
I pulled out my phone again.
I showed her the tuition receipts.
The recital email.
The new shoes I had bookmarked for her after she complained the soles of hers were wearing thin.
“Why would I do all of this if I wanted you to stop?”
She stared at the screen.
Her confidence disappeared little by little.
“He said you felt guilty.”
“For what?”
“For letting me believe I was better than I really am.”
