Mirrorworld
““Your son.”
I stare at Allenby, searching for a hint of deception. I find none.
In the past year, I haven’t once considered that I might be married. The idea of having a son is so totally foreign to me. And yet I smile. “I have a son?”
Allenby does not smile.
Her gloom robs my smile as well.
“I had a son.”
Her nod is subtle.
“He’s dead?”
Another nod.
“How?”
“I’d rather not say.”
“I don’t remember it,” I assure her. “I don’t remember you, or Maya, or Simon. If you tell me, I’ll know about it, but I won’t feel it. To me, we’re talking about strangers.”
She blinks her tears away, looking at me with glossy brown eyes. “You feel nothing? Not even a little?”
I shake my head. It’s a lie.
I feel something. I’m not sure what. The emotions aren’t connected to a thought or memory. It’s deeper than that. But I can handle it, and I’m sure as hell not afraid to hear the rest, even if it was so bad that I had my memory eradicated.
“Fine,”
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