So that's what we were to him-my daughter and I. A hidden shame. A burden. The kind of anger I felt didn't even leave room for arguments. I was simply tired. So tired. Fine. Whatever. He noticed my expression, and suddenly softened his voice. "I'll bring you two back in a few days. I'll make it up to you." I nodded, playing along, and walked upstairs without a word. It didn't matter anymore. Whether I left now or later, the outcome was the same. The damage had already been done. Whatever he thought he could "make up," I didn't need it. I packed quickly and quietly, and took my daughter's hand. As we reached the door, it opened. Selena stepped in, dragging a suitcase behind her. Nate rushed forward immediately to take it from her. "I told you I'd come get you. That's too much to carry. Don't wear yourself out." But mid-sentence, he seemed to realize something. He glanced at me, uneasy and alert. Selena saw me and paused, visibly surprised. "Christine? Why are you at Nate's place?" Before I could respond, Nate cut in, "She and her kid didn't have anywhere to go. I felt bad for them and let them stay for a while." Felt bad? Once, he used to say we were distant relatives. Now, we were homeless charity cases. I thought I was numb to all his excuses by now. But somehow, every one still managed to stab a little deeper. And then- "Hello, Uncle Nate." My daughter's voice rang out, polite and clear. Hearing her call him "Uncle," Nate froze. "What… what did she just call me?"