Dad was still at work.
I walked into their room.
“Mom?”
“Yes?”
“Can I ask you something?”
She smiled.
“Of course.”
I did not know how to say it.
Finally, I asked her directly.
“Did Dad do something to you?”
The smile disappeared from her face.
For several seconds, she stood completely still.
Then she slowly closed the bedroom door.
My heart started pounding.
“Why are you asking me that?”
“Your clothes. Your arms. You always hide them. When Dad speaks loudly, you go quiet. When someone asks you something, you always look at him first…”
Mom turned pale.
“You’ve been thinking this all these years?”
I started crying.
“Just tell me the truth.”
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She sat down on the edge of the bed.
Then she said,
“Your father really is connected to what I’ve been hiding for all these years.”
I felt as if my heart had stopped.
