Acceptance.
“Our life is not really ever ours, after all.” Char only ever replied with those words.
“At some point, one of us must take the blame,” I said. I was the father; I wanted answers even now. My best years were behind me. Truth is concave when you get to the horizon of your life.
In The Beginning.
“He’s not a strange boy! I wish you wouldn’t say such things in front of him.” Char was angry.
She never spoke back to me and it took me by surprise. I knew he was my son but he never acted like my boy. Strings for guitar, sticks for drums. No balls and no bats.
One Day
I wanted to walk in on him with lipstick on or a dress, like I had heard it happens. How they turn. But he wasn’t there.
“Here,” Char said as she handed me the note he left behind.
We thought it was one of those teen notes—I hate, you, I hate my life, I am going away.
We thought he would return.
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