“Look, I don’t know what happened between you and Max, but if we’re all going to be living together you need to—” she starts. “You do know,” I interrupt angrily. “You know exactly what happened.” “No,” she corrects. “I know your side of the story.” My shoulders shake violently. “Are you saying you don’t believe me?” She lets out a sigh. “I’m not saying that. I’m not saying anything, really. I just think you were very young when this ‘event’ happened”—she scratches the air with her fingers—“and maybe it’s not fair to put so much blame on Max.”
I can’t believe this really? You don’t believe your own daughter?????
