“Then why did you make me suffer for so many years?”
He remained silent for a long moment.
Then he answered:
“Thirty years ago, our family was drowning in debt. I was terrified that we’d lose everything. I found you a better-paying job at the hotel. At first, I thought you’d only have to work there for two years.”
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He wiped his eyes.
“Then I started saving money. When I realized that one day I might be able to give you your own bookstore, that dream became an obsession.”
I listened silently.
“I convinced myself that the surprise would eventually justify everything. But every year, I found another excuse not to tell you the truth.”
He took my hand.
“I was wrong. No building and no amount of money can give you back the thirty years you spent doing work you hated.”
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