“I worked there.”
“You still do.”
“Then I have a stake.”
“Yes.”
“Let me help.”
“With what?”
The question stopped him.
His face folded inward.
He knew what he wanted.
Not what his body or brain could sustain.
“I don’t know.”
“That is not failure.”
“I hate that sentence.”
“I know.”
He pushed his plate away.
“I know how to wire a boat.”
“Yes.”
“I know how to test a system.”
“Yes.”
“I know how to cook this.”
“Yes.”
“But I can’t remember to eat lunch. I can’t read two invoices without getting a headache. I can’t carry a pot from the sink.”
His voice cracked.
“And I don’t know who I am when I’m not useful.”
For a moment, I had no answer.
I reached for his hand.
He let me take it.
“You are not the sum of what you produce.”
“That sounds good when you say it.”
“It is still true.”
