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“Yes, dear?”
“I don’t want to know.”
I can practically hear her smiling over the phone. I tell her goodbye and she hangs up, to go do whatever she and my dad are about to do at the beach.
For a few minutes, I just sit in the kitchen and stare out the window.
I wonder if I’d ever asked my dad how he felt, if he would’ve told me? Probably. Instead, I let our relationship rest on assumptions.
Sort of like I did with Declan.
I wonder what would’ve happened if I’d just asked Declan how he felt? I wonder if I would’ve been courageous enough to be open to his answer.
I sigh then walk to the living room and pull the sea turtle sculpture off the bookshelf.
My dad’s proud of me.
My mom loves me.
I have my job.
A biography to write.
My friends.
My cottage and my garden.
I feel the weight of the turtle in my hand. Why does all that make me feel so lonely?
