Learn this now and learn it well, my daughter: Like a compass needle that points north, a man’s accusing finger always finds a woman. Always. You remember that, Mariam.
A man’s heart is a wretched, wretched thing, Mariam. It isn’t like a mother’s womb. It won’t bleed, it won’t stretch to make room for you.
Perhaps this is just punishment for those who have been heartless, to understand only when nothing can be undone.
I wondered if that was how forgiveness budded, not with the fanfare of epiphany, but with pain gathering its things, packing up, and slipping away unannounced in the middle of the night.
Not a word passes between us, not because we have nothing to say, but because we don’t have to say anything.
It may be unfair, but what happens in a few days, sometimes even a single day, can change the course of a whole lifetime.
You see, some things I can teach you. Some you learn from books. But there are things that, well, you just have to see and feel.
When you kill a man, you steal a life. You steal his wife’s right to a husband, rob his children of a father. When you tell a lie, you steal someone’s right to the truth. When you cheat, you steal the right to fairness. There is no act more wretched than stealing.