“You might have thought I’d worry about him, about causing him pain or at least embarrassment. I simply didn’t. I felt the kind of desperation, I think, that cancels the possibility of empathy. That makes you unkind. When I described myself as I was at that time to Daniel, I often said to him, “You wouldn’t have liked me then.”

“I felt the kind of desperation, I think, that cancels the possibility of empathy...that makes you unkind.”

“This is why I didn’t get married last year,” she said to him. “I wouldn’t be here to nurse you.” She thought about that for a moment. “Of course, one could make the argument that you wouldn’t be in this situation if not for me. But we’re not going to dwell upon that.”

“I know it makes sense for me and him to just break up now and just live our seperate lives and not have to worry about missing each other all the time. But when I think about that, I get sick. Physically sick. Like I seriously throw up. I need to be with him, even if I can’t, like, be with him.”

“I kissed his forehead. “You don’t have to thank me. I told you, I do anything for someone I care about.”He pulled away and looked up at me. “You said you do anything for someone you love.”I didn’t know how to respond to that. We were in such a precarious place. I didn’t want to say anything that might scare him away or let him know how I truly felt, because at the end of the day, I loved him. It was that simple. Instead I gave him a small smile. “I did say that, didn’t I?”

“You were worried about me?” “Of course I was, buddy. I would never have forgiven myself if something had happened. You didn’t think I’d be worried about you?” “No. I didn’t think you cared.” Dad looks sad. And surprised. I’m not sure why. “Really, buddy? You didn’t think I cared?” “No.” “Well, I do. A lot.” “Okay.” “I guess I need to do a better job of showing you.” “Yes. You could do a better job.” Dad laughs. And he hugs me again.”