“It never happened, Dad. You imagined it all. Mum never had an affair. None of it ever happened.” “But I had to believe it, Alan . . . ,” he said incredulously (and incredibly). This really intrigued me. “You had to?” I replied. “Why?” “I saw them coming out of the room . . .” “Whatever you saw was innocent. You made it all up.” I felt like I was talking to a child, or someone coming round from an anesthetic and needing to have everything reiterated again and again. “I saw what I saw,” he said, over and over. “No,” I countered. “You saw what you wanted to see, or what you decided you’d seen.”
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