She didn’t answer.
Then I noticed her hands.
They were trembling.
I’d known Susan almost my entire life, yet I couldn’t remember ever seeing her this frightened.
“What’s going on?” I asked.
She turned toward the ocean.
For several moments, neither of us spoke.
Children were playing farther down the beach, their laughter mixing with the sound of crashing waves.
Finally, Susan took a shaky breath.
“There’s something I’ve been keeping from you.”
My stomach tightened.
“What kind of something?”
“Something I should have told you years ago.”
I stared at her.
“Then why didn’t you?”
“Because every time I tried, I convinced myself there would be a better moment.”
“Susan, you’re frightening me.”
“I know.”
“Then tell me what’s happening.”
Her eyes filled with tears.
She reached toward my hand, hesitated, and slowly pulled back.
“I don’t know how you’re going to look at me after tomorrow.”
