Tears burned my eyes but I refused to let them fall. Not yet.
“Stand up,” I said. My voice sounded strange even to me. “Stand up and tell me the truth. Right now.”
He placed the frame gently on the side table, the same place it had sat since we moved into this house. Then he rose slowly, like an old man carrying too much weight. His shoulders were slumped. The man who usually stood tall in his mechanic workshop now looked small.
“Ada, please,” he started. “Some things… they are not easy to explain.”
“Easy?” I laughed but there was no joy in it. “You call this easy? I come home and meet you like this and you tell me it is not easy to explain? My own sister, Chinedu. My blood.”
He took one step toward me but I moved back. The smell of engine oil still clung to his clothes from the workshop. Usually that smell comforted me. Tonight it made my stomach turn.
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