Chapter 23

• There was an unspoken understanding that her stories were actually about MY father. And I fell into a hypnotic trance listening to her speak about her childhood. More than anything, Cassandra was my one link to the father I never knew. She was the one person who could tell me what he was like. And I was absorbing every little detail about the mystery man who had impregnated my mother and then left to make his billions.
• I was still holding Cassandra's hand, our meals now long forgotten. And as she finished, I could see the traces of moisture in her eyes as she reminisced about the only father figure in her life, now dead and gone. It was ironic: my father was dead and she was the one still in mourning.
• We were saved from our melancholy by the sound of my phone going off. Cassandra squeezed my hand one last time and then let me fumble around to answer it.