Pouring the drinks
As the drinks were poured, the tension in the air was almost palpable. Michael arrived, his gaze shifty and his body slightly tense. We settled in, but I could see he was uncomfortable, casting furtive glances around the room, as if looking for a way out. My hands were firm, but my heart was pounding, every beat seeming to echo in the silent room. To break the ice, I raised my glass and, with a forced smile, said, “To our health.” The moment seemed suspended, but deep down I knew we were about to turn a corner, that something was about to reveal itself.
Pouring Drinks
Michael speaks
Over a glass of wine, Michael finally broke the silence. His voice trembled slightly as he spoke, “Mom, I need to tell you something.” I held my breath, every word squeezing my heart, and leaned a little closer, eager to understand. “We’ve had some hard times,” he admitted, searching for his words, clearly in the throes of an inner struggle. This was the opening I’d been waiting for. I could feel that he was about to reveal everything, and without taking my eyes off him, I encouraged him to continue, hanging on his every word.
Michael Parle
