I should have told you the truth. You deserved to know. I am sorry for everything I put you through.
I read it several times.
I had waited eighteen years for him to admit that something might be wrong with him.
But receiving the confirmation did not repair what he had done.
Because the real injury had never been his medical condition.
It had been his decision to turn that condition into my shame.
Several months later, Michael asked to meet me in a public place.
I agreed to one conversation, with Rebecca aware of where I would be.
He looked different when I arrived. He seemed quieter, less confident, and visibly tired.
He did not ask me to return home.
Instead, he placed a small envelope on the table.
Inside was a letter.
He had written about his fear of being judged, the pressure he had placed on himself to become a father, and the shame that had caused him to hide his medical results.
