The certainty in my answer surprises her.
It surprises me too.
“I’m afraid of what she’ll say. Of the story she’ll tell to explain why she left both of us behind. I’m afraid of what I’m going to hear, and that no explanation will ever be enough to make sense of the hell I endured beside my father.”
“Maybe it will. Maybe it won’t. You’ll only find out if you go and meet her,” I advise, offering counsel I have never followed myself.
“It’s strange that she still hasn’t tried to see Alexandra. What is she waiting for?”
She is waiting for me.
She is waiting for me to make a move so she can make hers.
But instead of taking any step, I remain beside Lorenzo, watching Alexandra timidly bloom back into life.
The beeping of Lorenzo’s monitor intensifies, catching our attention.
I lean over
