Page 141

His brow furrowed. “What?”

“That life.”

His expression hardened. “I completed my duty.”

“That’s not what I said.”

“It is the same thing.”

“No.” The word came out sharper than I intended.

He looked at me.

I set my food down. “You keep doing that.”

“Doing what?”

“Turning every choice into duty.”

His shoulders tightened. “It was duty.”

“Maybe.”

“It was.”

“Okay.” I lifted my hands slightly. “I’m not saying it wasn’t.”

“Then what are you saying?”

I thought about how to phrase it because I knew this mattered.

“You chose duty.”

“Yes.”

“That means you made a choice.”

“I followed orders.”

“That is still a choice.”

He set down the utensil he had been holding. “You simplify what you do not understand.”

“That is possible.”

I let that sit between us. The utensil stayed where he had placed it, and neither of us reached for it.

Then he picked it up again. Set it down once more like he couldn’t decide whether to hold onto something or let it go.

“You are asking me to say I chose,” he said, “when I have nothing left from that life to point to and say yes, I chose this part. No, not that part.” He stopped. Started again. “The order was given. I read it. I did not argue with it. That is what I know.”

“Okay.”

“I am not hiding in it.”

“Okay.”

“Stop saying that word.”