Leave First
“leave first, then it looks like your decision” Jacob has not yet said “get out” — he has said “if anyone sees.” That is enough: Simon offers the exit himself, smiles, asks him not to pick him up anymore. “Leave first, then it looks like your decision” — a lesson from his father’s house. He had always “done the work for them”: removed himself from the way so neatly that no one else had to get their hands dirty. This pre-emptive rejection is a way of keeping a few crumbs of control where rejection seems inevitable.
The most agonizing part: he sees himself from the outside, knows what he is about to do — “and he did it anyway.” This is what an automatism learned before speech looks like: awareness does not cancel the reaction, it only adds shame. The tears running “through the smile, without asking permission” are two layers at once: the adult strategy and the child’s grief beneath it. The way out of this loop begins not with willpower but with an experience in which you are not asked to disappear — and so far Simon has exactly one day of that experience.