"Yes."
He looked like he wanted to ask more, but was afraid.
"You came too late."
So I asked first.
"Did she ever stop loving you?"
He looked away. Then back at me.
"No," he said. "That was the worst part. She didn't stop. She just chose you over me every single time."
I believed him. And I hated that too.
I said, "You came too late."
There was nothing left to hit him with after that.
"I know."
"You searched too weakly."
"I know."
"You let your family poison everything."
His voice cracked. "I know."
There was nothing left to hit him with after that.
Then he took it with shaking fingers.
So I took out the locket.
His eyes locked onto it.
I opened it, slid the photo out, and held it toward him.
He stared at it like it might vanish.
Then he took it with shaking fingers.
"You should have this," I said.
He nodded. It looked like it hurt.
"Why?"
"Because you're part of the truth."
I closed the locket in my hand. "But this was hers. So it stays with me."
He nodded. It looked like it hurt.
Finally, he said, "I'm not asking you to call me Dad."
"Good."
"I only wanted you to know she wasn't abandoned."
My mother did lie to me. But not because she wanted to hurt me.
I looked toward my mother's grave.
"No," I said. "She was loved badly. There's a difference."
He closed his eyes and nodded.
Maybe one day I will speak to him again. Maybe not.
What I know now is this:
My mother did lie to me. But not because she wanted to hurt me. She lied because the truth had teeth.
