The woman who had told me Nicholas's push was a tragic accident.
The woman who had spent years praising herself for helping me overcome the darkness.
**My mother had participated in arranging the incident that destroyed my sight.**
I began sobbing.
Not quietly.
Not gracefully.
I cried until my chest hurt.
Dad sat beside me.
Nigel stood near the door, his face white.
For several minutes, nobody spoke.
Then I looked at my husband.
"Did you know?"
He shook his head violently.
"No, Mara."
"Did your father tell you what he was doing?"
"No."
His eyes filled.
"He promised me a bicycle if I played a prank. I was eleven. I thought I was just being mean."
I stared at him.
"You still pushed me."
He nodded through his tears.
"Yes."
"And you still hid it from me for twelve years."
"Yes."
I looked away.
There was no explanation that could erase those facts.
