I never forgot, not for a single day, yet I was also convinced that sometimes, the past really was the past.
My father knew nothing of it-and I didn’t even discuss it with my mother, the only person who was there when it all happened, almost as if we took an unspoken vow of silence, willing ourselves to let go, move on. Not to my closest friends in my most intoxicated moments or to my boyfriend, Peter, in our most intimate ones. But I truly believed I was the exception to such portents, and never once breathed the smallest mention of my nearly two-decade-long secret to anyone. Maybe that’s the case for some people and some secrets. That in the end, only the truth will set you free. That they can poison relationships and divide families.
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