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“Christ, Davina,” Darragh said “We said ouldn’t do this to her”

“We should have done this a long tio”

I needed the “I couldn’t come home”

“Of course you could have”

“I couldn’t”

“Yes, you could have”

“No, I couldn’t!” I yelled, losing my patience

Davina sat back in her chair, her eyes wide

I grimaced “I’m sorry … I … you don’t know …” Not even my dad knehich made how much he’d protected and cared for

But now that Mom wasn’t here, now thatI realized it was the real reason I had felt strong enough to coet to this moment, to face my family, to truly understand

I knew it didn’t erase the years of cowardice, of hiding, but maybe it would answer some of their questions

So, on a quiet Sunday afternoon in my childhood home, I told my family my story It was painful, it was difficult, and I was asha, but I did it because I wanted them back I hadn’t realized how ain And if I had to lay et them back, I would

I no longer needed to protect my mother

When I was finished, Davina iping at silent tears, Darragh’s face was pale and haggard, and my dad … I couldn’t look at my dad

He pushed his chair back from the table and stormed out of the kitchen