81. Not My Story To Tell

“Why didn’t you ever tell me?”

“I thought you already knew. I thought you didn’t want to talk about it, or that it didn’t matter.”

“How can something like this not matter?”

“What difference does it make now? You finding out after all this time. It doesn’t mean anything. It was years ago.”

“What the fuck planet are you on? Of course it fucking matters. If it didn’t mean anything then why have you never mentioned it before to me? Anyway, that’s for me to decide, not you. What else have you kept from me?”

“Nothing. I wasn’t keeping it from you. I’ve never kept anything from you. You know that. You know everything about me.”

“Well apparently I don’t.”

“Oh, don’t be like that.”

“Like what exactly? You better not be telling me how I should be fucking feeling. And just how am I expected to behave when I find out something like this after all these years. Does everyone else know?”

“Some people know. But I don’t talk about it with anyone.”

“I bet they’ve all had a good laugh at me for being such a mug.”

“No-one is laughing at you.”

“Well they better not feel fucking sorry for me. That’s for fucking sure. Do you know what? I think you’d better go before I lose my temper. I need to be on my own right now. You’re doing my head in.”

“I don’t want to leave you like this.”

“I can’t help how I feel, can I? I’m not going to pretend everything is ok just to make you feel better.”

“No you’re right. Ok then. I’m gonna go now. Give you some space. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner. I didn’t know how. Ring me later?”

“I’ll ring you tomorrow.”

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