I’m sorry about your mom. I can only imagine what you’re going through, and I wish I could do something to make you feel better.
And I’m sorry about yesterday. The things I said to you were stupid and hurtful, and I had no right to say them to you after what you did for us. You saved all of us — all by yourself. Like a real hero.
But, most of all, I’m sorry I’m not saying these things to you. I can’t. I’m so afraid you’ll see right through me if I try to get close. I keep expecting you — all of you — to see the blood on my hands. And all I’ve done is lie to you today — what if you find out? And I’m going to lie to you again tonight, because I have to see what if what the Handyman says is true — if I didn’t screw up as bad as I think I did and if there’s a place for me.
So, Chance, that’s why I’m concentrating on cutting a perfect circle in this slice of bread instead of trying to help you work through this. I’m a coward, and I’m sorry for that too.