Uncle Henry. “I called him on the way here,” Astrid offers and her voice sounds far away, as if it’s underwater. “He wanted to see you.” Why? Just so he’d blame me? Kick me while I’m down as she likes to do? I can take that from her but not from him. Not from the father figure who taught me how to ride my first bike and put a plaster on my knees when I fell down. Only so I would realize I was only a substitute for his dear Astrid. A silver medal. A second choice.
Ugh T.T my heart
