Joseph stopped and stood there, looking at her in silence and pity.
"He's not a good father at all!" Irish roared angrily at Joseph, feeling extremely upset. "I am already very sad today. Why do you mention him? What does it have to do with me, whether he's dead or alive? Doesn't he have a wife and children? What am I? Who am I?"
Joseph felt painful and hard to bear and reached for a hand to hug her tightly in his arms.
In this instant, Irish finally cried.
Grieved, and pain filled her heart.
Her anger became pain, and her words failed to connect, "He's not a good father. No father will be hospitalized on his daughter's birthday. No!"
Joseph could only hug her more tightly and let her cry in her arms. He preferred her to cry more than to hold back in her heart, which had been laughing and pretending to be a hedgehog for years. He wanted to pull the thorn out of her body, but it would hurt her.
She was hurt, and so did he.
****
