[He settles in next to her, because this is going to be that kind of conversation.]

You're not the first person to trust the wrong people. Or the last. Certainly not the last one in the family to do so.

The statue is the only thing I know of either of my parents. [It's still strange to think of them that way, and they'll never really be his parents in any way that matters, but after so many years of knowing nothing about his mother, he still looks for anything he can find.]

She never liked me. What reason would she have to feel proud?