be helpful at all.”
Cedar placed one hand on Mark’s upper arm. “Oh, but it would be helpful,” she said. “And it would mean far more than me, a woman, telling him that crying when you’re sad is perfectly fine.”
“No, Cedar, you don’t get it. It was not easy to let go like that. I guess I made up my mind when I was a kid that tears sure as hell weren’t going to change the crummy stuff that I was dealing with, so what was the point?”
“Crummy stuff?”
Mark waved one hand in the air in a dismissive gesture, causing Cedar to drop her hand back to her side.
“That’s not important now,” Mark said. “It’s old news best forgotten. We’re talking about Joey’s baggage, not mine. What I’m trying to say is that the only way I could cry for Mary and John was to…was to get drunk as a skunk. I really don’t think you want me to give Joey a shot of whiskey and tell him to wail his little heart out.”
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