“If she hadn’t had red hair,” I said. “If she’d come out with dark hair, like yours. Would you ever have told me?”
He didn’t answer right away. I respected that. He actually thought about it.
“I don’t know,” he said finally. “I want to say yes. I want to tell you I would have found the courage someday. But honestly? Probably not. I think I would have carried it forever. I think I would have let you believe it was you for the rest of our lives.”It hurt to hear. But I believed him. And somehow, that hurt less than a lie would have.
“Thank you for being honest,” I said.
“It’s the only thing I’ve got left to give you,” he said. “So I’m trying to give you all of it.”
We sat for a while, watching our breath turn to fog in the cold air.
