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No one besides me ever thought of him anymore, certainly not my mother and Lydia. He existed in my thoughts alone, and it frightened me that if a time ever came when I no longer thought of him at all, he would truly be gone forever.
But we weren’t friends. Men don’t share secrets like boys do. As a boy becomes a man, he shares less about what’s inside him. Men do things together. Bowl. Fish. Share a beer. Talk bullshit. But it’s not like when we are boys. Our openness, our freedom, closes down. Out of survival and . . . self-respect.”
“You promised. I’m sick of bullshit. Of lies. All I get is fucking lies and bullshit. From everyone. Everyone is so full of shit.”
Don’t wreck your future trying to understand the past. Knowing won’t change what happened. People always want the truth. I did once and now, I wonder why. The truth is often ugly and mean. That’s why we lie to one another, after all, isn’t it?
