This is something I am simply unable to respond to. I don't know what to say or do. It would be so hugely inappropriate to ask him for details, but as we are walking here flanked by salmonberries and ferns, I have to say something. Something lame, because no matter how kind, how timely, how beautifully crafted the reply, it is always going to come off as lame, inadequate, inappropriate.
"What...happened?" I stammer.
"My father. When I was a kid. He diddled Melissa as well."
"How old were you?"
"young. Small. Please, I really don't want to go there right now."
"I'm sorry. I understand."
"You don't really. That's okay. There's nothing to understand. It isn't your pain to carry."
"But, can I help in some way?"
"Ever since you came to the mansion on retreat one week ago, Chris, you have been helping me. Way more than you could ask or imagine."
"I never would have known."
"That's okay. You know now."
"Is this why you and Melissa are close?"
"In a word, yes. Where does this trail go?"
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