Memories

However, we did get a brief moment to talk. Which was good for him. And bad for me.

Obviously my face showed that I recognized our capturer, and Nate noticed. That’s one of the interesting things about him. He notices things about people that anyone else would pass over. Anyway, the inevitable question came about thirty seconds after we both caught our breaths.

Who was he?”

I didn’t really want to answer, because that would mean I’d have to face the truth myself. I hated myself for that. For being such a coward.

So I turned away. Not in a snobby “I hate you” way, but I turned away. I hoped that would be enough of a clue for him that I didn’t want to talk about it.

“It’s important that I know who it was,” he pressed on. But he pressed on gently, picking up that it bothered me.

I bit my lip, feeling my throat close up so that I couldn’t respond even if I wanted to.

I felt Nate’s eyes on me, not daring to say anymore because, again, he could read my mind. Or whatever it is he does to know what I’m thinking.

I took a deep breath, trying to calm myself down, feeling shaky and unsteady.

“Okay, you don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to,” Nate said, still being gentle “But I would like to know.”

I closed my eyes, not turning around yet. Then, in barely a whisper,

“He’s my father.”