“I know. I only remembered afterwards. When she said it at the pool. I thought I was going to be sick.”
I nodded slowly, my eyes burning.
“Harold, thank you for telling me.”
“That’s it?”
“That’s it. For now.”
“I only remembered afterwards.” Harold walked me to the door. Once we reached the porch, he tried to say something more.
“Alison. There’s more I should probably say. But I don’t know how to say it.”
“Then don’t. Not today.”
I got into my car and sat there for a full minute before I could turn the key. I’d seen the expression on his face when he stopped himself, and I knew whatever he’d held back was the part that actually mattered.
“I don’t know how to say it.”
And I knew I’d have to return and ask him about it.
***
I drove home from Harold’s that morning, unable to stop thinking about our final exchange.
