Washing the dirt

“I remember something really besetting me. When I was seven, just before my mother's accident. One night I couldn't sleep and wanted to go down to my parents, but I stopped on the stairs. They were having an argument.” Patrick stopped for a moment to chew his food.

He did it very slowly to have time to consider how to put his thoughts into words properly. For a moment he even hesitated if he should tell Jo about it or just keep it to himself.

“What happened then?” She saw some hesitance plastered to his face.

Jo knew it wasn't so much distrust towards her as doubts about whether he had a real picture of the situation. He had to analyze some of his memories and insights. He was probably trying to put himself in the role of an observer, and not a personal witness of events, to look at everything coldly, without any emotions.