I asked Richard to attend the anniversary celebration.
He agreed.
Then I made one more call.
It was to a woman named Patricia, whom I had met several years earlier through a community organization.
Patricia was Sofia’s mother.
We weren’t close friends, but we had met at family events and spoken enough times to recognize each other’s voices.
When she answered, I greeted her politely.
“Patricia, I hope you don’t mind my calling. There’s something important I need to discuss with you. Could you join us at our anniversary celebration tonight?”
She sounded surprised.
“Of course. Is something wrong?”
“Something is wrong,” I answered. “But I would rather explain it in person.”
There was a long silence.
Then she said, “I’ll be there.”
By late afternoon, I had made the arrangements.
I didn’t feel triumphant.
I felt tired, wounded, and strangely determined.
I had no desire to destroy anyone for entertainment. I simply wanted the truth to stop living in the shadows.
