Kir’s laugh comes out of him like something foul dredged from a drain. “For eighteen f*****g years, you let me believe you were a killer.”
I watch his hands curl into fists against the muddy ground. “Yes,” I say again.
What else can I say? I did exactly what Elena asked. I honored her dying wish and it destroyed my relationship with my son, and I’d do it again if she asked me to.
That’s what love is, isn’t it? Carrying someone else’s pain so they don’t have to? Swallowing the poison yourself so their cup stays clean?
Even when it breaks you.
Even when it breaks everyone around you, too.
Once again, a long silence falls between us. The pigeon that fled a moment ago returns to land on the edge of a concrete barrier. It c***s its head, decides our misery is uninteresting, and leaves.
I
