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My
stomach
was
churning
.
Oh
,
God
,
don
’
t
let
me
faint
now
.
Don
’
t
let
me
look
ridiculous
in
front
of
him
.
"
Water
.
.
.
some
water
,
please
.
.
.
"
Not
so
much
for
the
drink
as
to
make
him
turn
away
.
I
didn
’
t
want
him
to
see
me
like
this
after
all
these
years
.
By
the
time
he
returned
with
a
glass
,
I
felt
a
little
better
.
"
Here
,
drink
this
.
Rest
a
minute
.
You
’
ll
be
okay
.
"
He
stared
at
me
as
I
sipped
the
cool
water
,
and
I
could
see
him
struggling
with
half
-
forgotten
memories
.
"
Do
I
really
know
you
from
somewhere
?
"
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"
No
.
.
.
I
’
m
okay
.
I
’
ll
leave
in
a
minute
.
"
How
could
I
tell
him
?
"
What
was
I
supposed
to
say
?
Here
,
look
at
me
,
I
’
m
Charlie
,
the
son
you
wrote
off
the
books
?
Not
that
I
blame
you
for
it
,
but
here
I
am
,
all
fixed
up
better
than
ever
.
Test
me
.
Ask
me
questions
.
I
speak
twenty
languages
,
living
and
dead
;
I
’
m
a
mathematical
whiz
,
and
I
’
m
writing
a
piano
concerto
that
will
make
them
remember
me
long
after
I
’
m
gone
.
How
could
I
tell
him
?
How
absurd
I
was
sitting
in
his
shop
,
waiting
for
him
to
pat
me
on
the
head
and
say
,
"
Good
boy
.
"
I
wanted
his
approval
,
the
old
glow
of
satisfaction
that
came
to
his
face
when
I
learned
to
tie
my
own
shoelaces
and
button
my
sweater
.
I
had
come
here
for
that
look
in
his
face
,
but
I
knew
I
wouldn
’
t
get
it
.
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"
You
want
me
to
call
a
doctor
?
"
I
wasn
’
t
his
son
.
That
was
another
Charlie
.
Intelli
­
gence
and
knowledge
had
changed
me
,
and
he
would
re
­
sent
me
—
as
the
others
from
the
bakery
resented
me
—
because
my
growth
diminished
him
.
I
didn
’
t
want
that
.
"
I
’
m
okay
,
"
I
said
.
"
Sorry
to
be
a
nuisance
.
"
I
got
up
and
tested
my
legs
.