I wanted my mother's happiness. And I paid a heavy price to keep her happy. But she never knew that. And she will never know.

It's our dirty little secret to this man and me.

It is painful to realize that to pretend to have forgotten is not to forget.

It is painful to realize that we are what we hate.

When I look up and wipe my tears of mixed anger and distress, I see Manuella posted on the first step of the staircase at the very top. David sleeps peacefully in her arms. She's carrying a bag over her shoulder and she's watching me.

She has a black...