I’d watched Jed’s face as I talked because I didn’t want to hurt him. I didn’t want him to feel like he was responsible for my loneliness, my sadness, my fear, but Jed was smart. He didn’t feel like those things were his fault; I could tell. And when he kissed me on the cheek, all grown up, I realized I didn’t have to feel responsible for those things of his either. He heard me, he knew, and he still loved me. It was amazing.
Alonso cleared his throat and said, “My turn?”
The three of us nodded, and I braced myself. I hadn’t heard much of Alonso’s story yet. He wasn’t secretive, not really. He just didn’t talk much at all and much less about himself.
“I was born in North Carolina in 1930. My parents were tobacco sharecroppers, and my brother and sisters and I all worked the fields with
