TWENTY-SEVEN
Nathan placed a pastel pink laptop by my lunch tray.
I looked at him, wondering how he'd come to choose a pink computer. I hadn't thought he was gay, but who knew? Maybe the sleazy manner was an act to hide where his tastes really lay.
He saw me looking from the laptop to him and he started to explain, "It's my sister's old laptop. She doesn't need it any more. You can borrow this as long as you need to, so you can record what you remember."
I nodded, trying to steel myself.
I could have said I lost my nerve, as he took an inordinately long time setting up the laptop, plugging it in, turning it on and waiting for it to boot up. I could have said the sheer trauma and pain had made my memories hazy and I experienced some sort of amnesia. But I didn't.
I can't repeat what I
