I took his hands in mine to still them.

“Otis,” I said.

“Why didn’t you show me those photos before tonight?

Why did you carry all of that by yourself?” He was quiet for a long moment, looking down at our hands.

And then he said the thing I have not been able to forget, in a voice so small it barely reached me.

“If I showed you at home,” he whispered, “you would’ve just cried alone in the kitchen.