Monday, June 3, 2013

I was not prepared for you. Forgive me.

At the end of the cab ride to Sunrise home, the silence is finally broken when my father glances at me, and his face softens, and he says, “Anita is right. I have been tearing her, inside. I need to separate what is real and what is not.” 
And I say, “This here between us, this is real. And the loneliness, too.” 
In return he says, “I am so sorry, Ben. I do not know what came over me tonight. I guess I was not prepared for you. Forgive me.”

Listen to Ben's voice:


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“I plan to read all her other books. Hers is a unique voice”

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