I suppose you want to know about your father. I suspect you’ve always wanted to know and simply didn’t ask for my sake. Thank you for that. Now it’s time to pay you back.
Did I ever tell you about Patrick Faust? Properly? I used to tell you about him in bedtime stories when you were very little, though I do not recall ever mentioning him when you were old enough to understand.
He was a singer when I was younger. I’d like to say rockstar but that would be misleading. He was nothing like a rock star, though I regarded him in much the same way when I was a teenager. I was as in love with him as you could be with someone having never met them.
Imagine my face when I did meet him. It’s not a face you will have ever seen. I had the stupidest and most sincere smile in the world the moment I saw him for the first time, alive and breathing just twenty feet from me. I have smiled that smile only twice in my life: the day I met Patrick, and the day you said your first word.
But that’s neither here nor there.