“The kind that takes a while to sit with.”
Another pause, longer this time.
When she spoke again, her voice was careful in a way it hadn’t been before.
“Did he tell you about the boy?”
The kitchen went very quiet.
“Ruth.”
“I told him he needed to tell you himself.
I told him that years ago.”
“You knew.”
“I found out two years ago.
He made me promise —”
“You knew,” I said again.
“For two years.
While I was in this house with him.
While I was pregnant.”
“He was going to tell you.
He kept saying he was going to find the right time —”
“There is no right time for this.”
“I know that.
I told him that.”
“But you kept his secret anyway.”
She didn’t answer immediately.
I could hear her breathing.
“He was my son,” she finally said.
“He was sick and he was scared and I didn’t know how to —”
