“And you’re telling me that you knew her?”
“She was my sister, Claire. I was there when you were born.”
I stared at him, struggling to understand the words.
“Then who are you?”
His lips trembled.
“I’m your uncle.”
The world seemed to tilt beneath my feet.
For twenty-four years, I had called this man my father. He had taught me how to ride a bicycle, waited outside my school when it rained, and stayed awake beside my bed when I was sick.
Now he was telling me that our entire relationship had begun with a secret.
I backed away from him.
“Why would you do this to me?”
He immediately raised his hands.
“I didn’t want to hurt you.”
“You lied to me my entire life!”
“I know.”
“Did Mom know?”
“Yes.”
That answer hurt more than anything else.
I pulled out my phone with trembling fingers.
“I’m calling her.”
