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“It’s okay, man. We all cry sometimes.” You act sympathetic. Opening old wounds could spill more blood than intended.
“…I-I don’t need your sympathy.” Jesse gets a hold of himself.
“I know.” You nod without saying much more.
Jesse keeps glaring at you, hoping for your supposed façade to crack or show your bad intentions somehow. While you’re feeling tested, you don’t know how else to react but to show empathy by being respectful. He notices nothing is going to change until the conversation moves forward.
“You don’t need to push yourself; we can end this here if it weighs down on you this much.” You remind him this is entirely optional.
“It’s frustrating.” Jesse sighs in pain.
“Being emotional is not something you need to be ashamed of.” You point out. Oh boy, this took you long to learn.
“That isn’t it. I can’t seem to look back without feeling this amount of grief. It’s not normal.” Jesse sounds angry at himself.
“It happens to me every time I remember my mom.” You casually open up.
“…I’m sorry to hear that.” Jesse clears his throat.
“I like to think that it’s a sign that they meant a lot to us.” You shrug.
“I agree.” Jesse nods. “But I hate that I can't look back at him fondly without feeling guilty. He was under my care while the surgery happened, and…” Now he’s shaking his head. “I should drop it.”
“Fine by me.” You give him a thumbs up. “When you’re prepared to talk again, I’d like to know how Mr. Auburn helped reunite your family.”
“It’s not fair to him if I keep his good deeds to myself. I’ll keep it short.” Jesse takes a deep breath. “It’s a grim subject, are you ready for it?”
“Yes.” You nod.
“During Gordon Sr.’s time, due to obvious reasons, government dissidents were being persecuted left and right. Families were split. Made to disappear. Killed. Abandoned. Or thrown away through the cracks into a dysfunctional foster care system at best.” Jesse has a hard time keeping this that short. “Grandpa Auburn risked his neck by helping the dissenters escape. Many had to leave their children behind. He had to split the siblings into different foster homes for their own safety. But he kept record of every single child that at any point in time was under his care. Every single one. In hopes that one day, he could help reunite them with their families.” Jesse smiles. “And among the lucky ones, it was mine.”
“Woah, that’s incredible!” You never saw someone do that while you were out there in the bubble.
“I don’t think he ever stopped until his death… he kept recognizing people... phoning numbers... It was never enough for him.” Jesse looks teary eyed again.
And he died of a random botched surgery…
You find life stupid.