His voice faltered and he stopped. “I didn’t see him there.”
“Mean. Heartless. You know Father’s been unemployed for a long time.
That’s why I couldn’t swallow yesterday, looking at his face.
One day you’ll be a father and you’ll know how much it hurts at times like this.”
Any more and I’d cry. “But I didn’t see him, Totoca, I didn’t see...”
“Get away from me. You really are good for nothing. Go!”
I felt like racing down the street and clinging to Father’s legs, crying.
Telling him I’d been mean – really, really mean. But I just stood there, not knowing what to do.
I sat on the bed. And from there I stared at my shoes, in the same corner, as empty as could be.
As empty as my heart, careening out of control. Good God, why did I do that?
Today of all days. Why did I have to be even meaner when everything was already so sad?
How will I look at him at lunchtime? I won’t even be able to swallow the fruit salad.
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