he claimed. “Wet cedar,” I asked and started walking again. “We all have our own scent…” he schooled me and matched my pace. “Let me guess, I smell like roses!” “Actually…” he mumbled and something dawned on me. The necklace my father had given me came to mind. I could almost hear Murphy speaking, “Desert Rose”. Reality was starting to sink in and before I knew it I was running. My father had known all this time and never told me before he died. Why didn’t he? What was he waiting for? Would he have deserted me too? Wait…he did. I suddenly hated my father. I already hated my mother but I found myself hating her even more. I feverishly thought of who else knew about this and before I knew it my thoughts had outrun me and I was on my knees in the middle of the desert. Tears streamed down my cheeks and my senses flared wildly.
